We usually begin new adventures boldly. We wear all the best gear, we are equipped with energy, courage, and determination. We look fear in the face and lift our fists to it. Our voices are strong when we tell the path, “ready or not, here we come!”
We strongly believe that we will be successful.
As days pass by, we lose fractions of ambition. Our passion to boldly conquer fear as we trek on is much quieter. Our voices are hoarse, and our spirits grow weaker daily.
Fears wreak havoc on our beliefs of success.
This is what motherhood has looked like for me.
I started a journal for each of my children as soon as I knew I was pregnant. I wrote to them often, daily sometimes, to share my thoughts and excitement about their arrival.
My plan was to write once a month, until the day of high school graduation. I was successful… for about 10 years.
Yesterday, I searched for the journal that was supposed to be gifted, as my oldest son graduated.
I found it in the bottom drawer of the old dresser, covered in dust, in the corner of the basement.
Needless to say, it wasn’t where I hoped I’d leave it when I began writing. It wasn’t as full, nor as complete as it should’ve been either.
The last date I wrote in it was 2011. That entry was two years after the entry before it.
As crazy as it sounds, as I began to read the words I wrote for my son, I slipped away, back to my motherhood beginning. I felt the flutters, in my mind, that I wrote about feeling in my pregnant belly. I felt the new, full joy I described as I watched my first baby sleep. I saw him as the gift he was to me then. I relived the trips to the zoo, the movies he loved, his favorite books, and the best memories we shared.
I recognized my almost-18-year-old son in the description of the 2-year-old who told me he was the boss! And the 3-year old who said, “Mom, I look good!,” as he admired himself in the mirror.
That beginning motherhood mom in the earliest pages of that journal was young, full of life. Fearless. Overflowing with love. I miss her!
At the same time though, I’m glad she grew up. She couldn’t have endured the rest of the journey. She needed to learn every lesson that presented itself, the moment it unfolded in her lap.
My early motherhood path ended on the pages of the journal. There were about 10 pages left. White, blank pages that felt like stone tablets. My next words would be etched as my final thoughts to him, in this context, forever.
It was difficult to decide which words were worthy, important, and relevant.
I told him about my biggest mistakes & regrets. I owned them, and apologized for the ones that affected him.
I told him how much I love him, and how that love has grown tremendously over the years.
Lastly, I encouraged him to live a bold life – a life full of energy, courage, and determination – a life without fear.