So I reflect, and I realize for the first time ever with quite certainty that I have no Self. My Self (or any sense there of) has splintered into millions of fractured little fragments and divided, multiplied and combined to form the two distinct beings that have come forth from my body. Their flesh is of my flesh, blood of my blood, laughter of my heart, being of my conscience. My thoughts of them are a constant. My worries of them endless, my dreams for them insatiable. There is no end to me or beginning to them. Yet- they are individuals, every day they grow and learn and change and I can see their Selfs develop and evolve. They become increasingly independent, and increasingly they are these other little people who are so separate from me.
But still I can't find my Self without them because I am this new formation of me.. because of them in spite of them and thanks to them I will never be just me again. Nor would I ever want to be.
I look and them and mourn how few minutes there are in a day. I can't hold them long enough, soak them in enough. When at last they fall asleep at night I often (but not always) have to fight the urge to wake them up so I can enjoy 2 more minutes of their smiles and bright eyes. I absolutely curse time because how ever long there is I promise you there will not be enough time with them. I love them. I need them. I am them.
So here I sit, I write, I bathe in this irony- in motherhood- in being me and being a mom.
What better day to start documenting my reflections on this journey, happy mother's day.