Saturday, December 15, 2012

My Mama Heart

In the months after Abby was born, I noticed that I cried a lot more. Sappy commercials, sweet exchanges between strangers, a touching greeting card. I assumed it was just a continuation of hormones causing me to feel so sensitive.
As Abby grew, and I weaned her, I ceased to carry any postpartum hormones, but I still continued to be a sentimental sap. I wondered why.
I know now what changed.
When Abby was born, I grew a new layer on my heart. My mama heart, I call it. It has made me see all mothers as sisters in this great journey, and all children as lights that were incubated, waited for and, in most cases, celebrated. My mama heart is what makes me cry at sappy Pampers commercials, because it touches a soft spot that makes me love holding my babies. My mama heart makes my eyes swell up with tears when Abby runs into my arms with uninhibited love.
My mama heart makes me feel things on a much deeper level, which is both a blessing and a curse. It makes beautiful moments seem all the more vivid, colourful and extraordinary because now I am a mother and I get it.
Yesterday, it was a curse.
I actively avoided the news when I first saw the headlines because I knew I couldn't take it. I wanted so badly to let the story pass by in the news. But of course, I couldn't. I saw that children had been killed and my soul needed to know more. It needed to dive into the suffering and trauma and catastrophe.
My mama heart was breaking yesterday. I, of course, held my babies tight and then began to weep all over again because I thought of those parents who could not do the same. I could not help but walk myself through the motions I imagined them feeling. I needed to place myself there, pretend I'd got that phone call, so I could connect with those families. I needed to remind myself how lucky, how blessed I am to be safe at home with my babies.
This isn't something I should have to feel. The reality that small children could go to school and be victim to a shooting spree is still so hard for me to understand. Yesterday, I needed to try. Today, I feel great sorrow and a sense of loss.
My faith is not shaken, and I don't doubt the omnipresence of an all-knowing force who hears my prayers and guides my destiny gently. But I have great difficulty connecting that belief with yesterday's tragedy with no silver lining, no positive outlook, no good to come of it.
So in this moment of confusion and feeling of being lost, I pray. I send my wishes for comfort and healing to all those for whom this is their new reality. I wish for everyone who, like me, is greatly troubled that they may find a feeling of solace, when understanding is not available.
And I pray hard for the mamas whose hearts are bleeding, broken, after their babies were taken from them, young and old.

2 comments:

  1. Sarah, you do such a good job at articulating your feelings. This post sums up exactly how I am feeling. I took that cal in my mind too. I was in the shower, playing out the events and what it would feel like to get that news.
    Love to you. Love to those poor families in CT.

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  2. Every morning I wake up and pick up my daughter and start thinking of the parents who will never pick up their child again. My heart breaks every time.

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