‘She was the most beautiful pink all over. She even smelled pink. That sounds weird. I can’t describe it, that little, pink, baby smell. The first time her little eyes focused on me and her fingers reached out, I was someone new. She had me.’
Lorelai Gilmore on baby Rory, S4: E7 The Festival of Living Art, 29.20
Calliope in the labour ward
she who has no love for women
married and housekeeping
now the bird notes begin
in the blood in the June morning
look how these ladies are
as little squeamish as
men in a great war
have come into their bodies
as their brain dwindles to
the silver circle on
eyelids under sun
and time opens
pain in the shallows to wave up and over them
grunting in gas and air
they sail to a
darkness without self
where no will reaches
in that abandon less
bleak as a goddess
Published in Lines of Life, 101 Poems by 101 Women, Edited by Germaine Greer, 2006, p170, Bookmarque Ltd, Croydon.
I read the blog post, ‘Rebirth: What we don’t say,’ by The Sage Mama before I had kids, and it meant something to me even then. Here are some beautiful excerpts.
‘My heart was cracked – shattered really and there would be no repairing it. The love that stretched and tore and suckled and broke my sleep was one so profound that nothing could have prepared me for it… The yellow from the canvas of day bled all over the black watercolour of night and time became nothing… I was lost in the curves of my children’ wrists and in the folds of their necks, their startling cries that made me start inaudibly and sent my heart flitting in my chest like a desperate butterfly… When I did get back to me, I was gone. This is the thing women don’t tell each other about motherhood. That you will not see anything the way you used to see it, you will never hear language the way you used to hear it, music, colour, photos, friends, family, career path – nothing came through my transition to motherhood unexamined. Least of all myself.’
In my case the change has been for the better. Each meaning in my life is deeper now. The full post is here.
This post comes from something I saw on @sleeplovegrow’s Instagram account.
She wrote, ‘It has taken some years to realise that every minute I spend with my kids is an opportunity – to teach, to learn, to love and to build a firm foundation that will help them one day build their own strong families’.
Even though my children are only small, sometimes I already feel sad about the thought of them growing up and leaving home. But I find some solace in this, imagining my children building their own families and the circle of life continuing.
From the nuanced and delicate short story by Alex O’Sullivan, Nothing for Dinner. I think she does a good job at capturing the experience of drudgery and importance motherhood can be. It’s really quite subtle. The following is a couple of little excerpts I’ve pulled out.
‘She felt like she was living in a kind of grey zone, the world had lost its sharpness of edges, everything was blurred…..She knew what people meant now when they talked about getting through something. Somehow, she had to get through this lifetime of dinners and dishes. In between the getting through was the filling in…..She felt like she was a stretched elastic band, unable to snap back. She had let the idea of a proper family stretch away from her. She had felt her husband pulling away, staying out later and later at the office, and she had just let him stretch the band, longer and longer until it could never snap back, and so he had gone. In a way she could understand it, if you had the chance to go, before you become a useless, broken rubber band like the person you are living with who has no energy for you anymore.’
The full story is published on Feminartsy, here.