Here I am. Sitting at my computer. On this day which marks by arrival into this world. Having more reverence for my mother and her postpartum days since I've been through my own version of them.
This is a bigger birthday for me than I realized. Like most moms, I don't have as much time to reflect on myself as I once did. Self-reflection has always been important and necessary for me. I spent many years pouring feelings, thoughts, and observations into journal after journal. Not so much anymore.
In truth, I've come upon a startling re-realization in the past 24 hours that what I know of myself now is mostly that I am a Mom-person. This is how it feels, at least. Like "Mom" is now an article of clothing I must wear each day, a second body sewn to me, a persona all of its own. And, I have become it, her, what have you.
She has her own personality, health regime, sleep needs, and lack of care for personal appearance. Contrarily, she has a great obsession with personal appearance. More so than I ever thought possible.
When considering the mom body, I feel older than time. Out of place in the universe. Like God is skipping stones across my pond of ucky-feelings with a whistle on his lips.
Contrarily, I feel great beauty. All about, around, and inside. Everywhere I look, whether at the park, in the car, in my shabby robe at my desk, slicing carrots on a cutting board, cracked and permanently smelling of garlic, or...you get the picture.
39 is glorious. It's back pain, necessary dental visits, and indigestion. But even more than all that, it's a settling into my skin, no matter what that skin looks like. It's calm but still freaking out sometimes. It's feeling experienced in life enough to walk the earth with feet that can touch the ground. That can claim their space on any sidewalk.
Here's looking at you, kid, and the wonderful year ahead!
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