Like I was superman with all my superpowers drained from my body.
The kryptonite -- stretching of skin over lengthening bones and shedding of babyness for childhood.
The super powers I'd had wrapped up in my mother's body only a mere memory amid the screams of an inconsolable 2.5 year old, shrieking in the darkness of my bedroom at 12:15 a.m.
When both boys weaned, there was that sense of power-comfort loss, too. And then again when I could no longer pick up my lanky oldest son and walk rhythmically with him up and down the long hallways after he'd had a bad dream or a badly skinned knee.
And there it was again in the fullness of my inky-black room, only a tiny section illuminated by soft-glowing nightlight.
No milk. No baby carrier in which he could find rest amid the steady bounce of my pace, against the beating of my heart, in the security of being snugged right against my frame. No swaddling blanket large enough to comfort his toddler body.
Just me fumbling in the dark for new the bag of motherhood superpowers I haven't quite yet mastered -- the right words, the right melody of soothing song for his ears, the right touch to his skin, the right calm for his wild, wordless upset.
I stumbled hard into thinking in the sleeplessness of midnight about growing in my own mother skin. About what I have now to offer little boys who are no longer little babies and are growing quickly into little men.
What is there apart from a breast of comfort and arms like entwined branches and the calm of my heart thumping in time with their own now that they've grown out of the supermom powers I'd relied on most.
We finally all drifted to sleep, exhausted and teeming with frustration after riding out the crystorm together of what I can only assume is emerging molars, snuggled in the same bed.
I slept hard-crazy-dream sleep where I found myself struggling against intruders in my home, unfaced villains who were trying to harm my babies. In my dream, I was conniving and fearless, strong beyond my own knowing and I protected my growing flock with super-natural God-given mother fierceness of heart.
I carried this fierce-love into total consciousness, woken by smiles and babble mixed with toddler-crafted words followed by the happy sounds of a preschooler coming to say hello.
There were wrapped-up words, oh so many words from my preschooler and tackle hugs, so many tackle hugs wrapped around my neck by my toddler.
And with these word spoken, hugs given, tantrums thrown, ideas shared, tears shed, the emerging super powers of a mother who ages with her children, the sheer weight and depth of that strong-ocean-current-fierce love manifests itself in listening well, in embraces fully returned and in pausing to pay the captors of this soul-love my fullest attention even when I feel like I'm fumbling around in the dark.
Every Thursday we come together to share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with the beauty in the simple moments of the week, and this week we are teeming with Momalom's Five for Five to find the Bigger Picture wrapped up in AGE. Don't forget to link at both Jade's and Momalom's to support each other and find new friends!
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.
Link up your gleaned moment this week at Jade's!Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.