I love you but I don't like you

We all have thoughts, dark thoughts, thoughts we feel ashamed about. We catch ourselves feeling a certain way and almost immediately reject the notion that we were in fact in that space, of darkness or sadness or great anger. I learned through my work as a mediator to hold the space. What that means to me is to let the emotion be, let it fill all the room your chest, head and heart have to spare. Let it raise up to your eyes and out through tears, let it come up thought your throat and out in a hissing sound. Let it be real and concrete, maybe even matter-of-fact. Maybe blog about it and maybe share it with others floating on a similar boat and watch it land on their shore and carefully notice their reaction, and your reaction to their reaction. 

You will be amazed.

Ten days ago I was holding my 16 months old, rocking him, then bouncing him, then nursing him, then rocking him, then bouncing him, then nursing him then (you get the gist) an hour later lowering him in his crib fully asleep and immediately feeling his back getting stiff and every little muscle in his body activate so he could readily sprint right up screaming and getting me to repeat the same mantra again and again. Meanwhile my 3 yo patiently brought a book to his bed, read to himself and fell asleep, just-like-that.

As I was filled with frustration and anger, thinking about my long list of things I wanted to get accomplished after the boys were both asleep, I could not help but becoming overwhelmingly aware that- while I LOVE both my children, I did not like my baby very much.  

Yup. I said it... 

I began to imagine my life with only one child, the more I thought about the more ashamed and regretful I felt. How could I LOVE someone and not accept them wholly, welcoming every single imperfection into the picture? I quickly tried to snap out of this feeling and cuddled my baby even closer, apologetically, miserably. But the raw feeling of dislike was biting my stomach, the more I felt it, the more I grew discussed for my self. I went back and forth in picturing the sweet moments our baby had shared with us, to just wanting him to go to sleep and leave me alone.  

That evening I opened up to my husband- I felt like I didn't like our baby today, I love him, but...- Stop right there, he said, OF COURSE you love him, there is no need to justify that. It's OK to loose it, I'll help you get it back. 

As so we had to come up with a plan to fix the broken pieces.The plan didn't just involved me holding space for my negative feelings, regaining self-confidence, accepting my own emotional wrack. The plan involved another component- sleep train our baby. 

With him sleeping longer stretches, the whole family would feel better. I reached out to a friend who sent my husband and I sleep training plan, I left the house with my preschooler for 3 nights, and I returned to a HAPPY sleeping- through-the-freaking-night child!!!!

And- most importantly- through my openness to talk about how I felt in those dark moments I encountered only acknowledgement and empathy, an army of sleep deprived parents who fully related to my story and never judged me (at least not any harsher then I had judged myself) for getting so low. 

Run mama run- unapologetically awesome

This year for Mother's day I started what I hope to be a tradition in my family: Run Mama Run, a 5k run in honor of... ME. The park where we ran is beautiful, tall trees reminds us of the mother of all mothers and the view of the city from above is a gift to the eye, glowing in the distance, Mt.Hood, where I got married sit in plain view.. I felt so privileged.

I feel so privileged to have my boys watch me run. Though they have no idea (and never will) of what my body did to grow them from a tiny cell, birth their 9lb bodies, wear them for months, pick them up 35 times a day... they can watch THIS mama run.

It's so easy to be the self-deprecating-kind of humble when you are a woman. No-one likes, I had been taught, a woman that stands up tall, chin up, shoulders down, full chest and claims I AM AWESOME. Yet, this is exactly the kind of man we are told we want to be with. Well on Mother's day I gave myself the gift of permission: permission to feel awesome, to no longer down play what I do and who I am but to own it.

While I ran I took apart my body and hair to toe acknowledged and thanked every inch of me for being great, beautiful, strong, soft, round, hard and just awesome! I then thanked and acknowledged the internal organs that allowed me to breath in while I ran, those beautiful parts of me that have shifted and shrink to make room for my babies and then wobble back to place (or not). And most importantly I thanked my spirit, what makes me a resilient mother, one who knows how to find a centering place during tantrums, one who knows how to be compassionate even when angry, one who has been unconditionally loving even though she has been sleep deprived for 11 months.
How to be unapologetic about being awesome is something women rarely enact. I want my boys to see this in me, to recognize that women are powerful, strong, beautiful and not afraid to call themselves as much.

While running I  acknowledge my fellow running mamas, women with different but equally awesome qualities that could only maybe take a lesson in (re)claiming their beauty and their strength. I wondered how many of them were feeling and owning their true potential. How many gavethemselves permission to feel great, inside out. How many intentionally forgave the parts of them that they do not love and celebrated the parts that make them proud.

As I ran my eyes filled with tears at the beauty inside and around me, I felt privileged, awesome and just so right.