My boys and I, we sat on a hill the other day, our favorite hill in the city. It is one we’ve came to and played on and picnicked at more times than I can count as a little family. It’s a pleasant place for us, almost always painting our canvas calm and happy and bright. This hill and this park, it echos serenity and reminds us to be still. It’s a harbor for us in the middle of a life’s sometimes turbulent sea, for it’s here in the open space that we take refuge when needing a fresh perspective or just a place to let out a big, bellowing “ahhhh.”
I’ve needed quite a bit of these moment lately. To bellow and so forth. Because motherhood, despite all of it’s beauty and wonder is very, very hard. I’ve been dealing a bit with separation anxiety from certain people along with some yucky postpartum stuff, so being deliberate with my time and reflecting on the little things that spark joy in my life have become absolutely essential. A mindset worth cultivating and nurturing.
And because my heart was calling out for it, we came the hill while Stella was in preschool, while she played with her new friends and learned about the five senses. We came as the three of us, so I, their mama bear, could seek solitude and a chance amid the changing trees to just sit in stillness. So I could spread out our blanket overlooking the green so I might breathe deeper. To breathe in longer and more fully, ballooning my lungs as big as I dare, inviting my soul the chance to dance away from some of life’s more hectic and lonely dips, to feel lighter and freer. Because some days are just hard. Some weeks an absolute struggle. Some take a lot more courage to get back up after having fallen or simply after having just taken a short dive into the clouds. And that’s okay. It’s those hard days and or weeks that teach us so much, that help us grow, giving us the tools to hopefully do better.
To the hill we came, to take in the rich connection of myself and nature, whereupon I did, as I always do, find purpose and peace and magic in the seemingly mundane. If only for a minute or two. To feel the grass on my toes, speckled with leaves and twigs, telling me Autumn is coming. To tenderly enfold my arms around my baby and nurse him, his suckling sounds filling me up. To watch my wild Theodore run around barefoot with his toy truck, smiling smiling smiling. To crack open and be encouraged by a new book, Rising Strong by Brene Brown. She’s amazing, isn’t she? To hear the singing birds overhead, preparing for their journey south. To sit in stillness and quiet my mind, and give gratitude for gift that it is to live another day as a wife, a mom, a daughter, a friend. all of this, on a hill, as I sat with my boys.
To any mamas going through a rough patch, I wish I could give you a big hug. You’ll get through it. You’re not alone.