Some of my best moments and memories in life are of me alone in a car driving with just amazing music to accompany me as I yearn and dream. Then, I feel connected and alive. I really relish me-time and cherish freedom. And I need space.
And yet somehow I am choosing to spend my days and nights entwined with my eight month old baby boy who stole my heart eight months ago, and continues to do so every moment with his charm and sweetness: his soulful eyes, his lopsided self-possessed grin and boisterous communications. He sucks his thumb fervently and loves his mommy even more. He perches on my hip and looks out at the world safely with a sense of confidence and, though my back and arm breaks, I love being his home, his everything. He is so attached, and so am I. I look at him and my heart opens and breaks and expands all at once.
But now I am at this point where I am starting to recall myself and my primary needs and I know I need to choose space consciously. I need time to recharge and I need my nights back. Love is a powerful fuel but it can only take you so far, and my body and soul need rest. It is time. It is necessary.
And yet, in this blurry place, I cannot fathom how to possibly do it.
And so I remind myself that I am a mom of two others and I have done these seemingly impossible tasks previously, the ones I couldn’t imagine ever doing, like somehow stopping nursing my two super-attached little girls, and even more, supporting my eldest through heart surgery. And what about accomplishments beyond my role as mom? For example I never imagined I would be able to move from somewhere destructive once-upon-a-time and I did it. I did it for survival, I did it for health, I did it for balance, I did it for me. It was not easy but I was clear and did it and it was for the best.
So once again I can do it. He will be okay. I will be okay. Our love will not be any less.
And so I close my eyes and picture myself in my special space: driving. The scent of a hot summer night wafts in through my window with a bitter-sweet song as the background soundtrack. But this time, I look to my passenger seat and I see my boy next to me. He is his own person in his own seat. His elbow leans on the window as he taps his leg. We are both absorbed in our own world of gazing out the window and dreaming big, and as we catch eyes, I know we are on the same page. Our vantage points may be different now but our love is as deep and present as ever. He is assured of my love, it is in his veins, and he understands and even appreciates the space and opportunity to really be his own big little person.
I breathe in and fill myself up with this knowledge, and feel that bit more ready to do what needs to be done.