Member-only story
Please, Give Me Some Space, My Dear Child
From conception until death, mothers will be
I was neck-deep in a porcelain bowl. Pouring out of me were all of my fears, anxieties, my deepest desires, a profound love I didn’t know existed, and the rest of my freedom. It’s incredible to me that while I heaved and lay in agony, I was happy. I was comfortable because she was there – just a fragile little bean sprouting within my existence.
From that moment, my freedom was hers. My presence was not for myself anymore; it was for a little girl soon to be named Isabella.
I don’t think we fully comprehend the amount of time we are expected to share once we have a child. It isn’t until that first beckoning call that shatters our ability to think logically that we realize our presence will forever be rationed. We rush to their side and hand ourselves over willingly and lovingly — forever.
“Honey, just go take a bath, Bella will be fine.”
My husband tried to encourage me to take some mommy time, but I refused.
“I’m fine; she needs me.”
She didn’t. Not really. She wanted me to lay with her while she nursed and watched her favorite show, Pocoyo. Nonetheless, I stayed. I was torn. I wanted so badly to submerge myself in warm water in complete silence…
