Mourning what I have

I’m mourning what I have.

The time with just us, and what has become our new normal.

The mother I’ve become. One whose attention has been split, but somehow her love undivided.

The co-parent I’ve grown into. Communicating more and leaning into reliance not just when I need it but when I want it.

The reformed woman I’ve found through becoming a mother of two. One of new strength. Of new understanding. Of a deeper compassion for herself and who she hasn’t always been able to be.

I’m mourning what has taken such perseverance to step into.

The becoming of what it is to be as we are, in this exact way, as a family unit, right now.

A place where it feels like it’s just getting a little easier, and a lot less foreign.

A more comfortable place of mothering.

I’m mourning because it will all change soon.

I’ll be in yet another stage of newness and adjustment.

I’ll be a mother of three, out of my comfort zone, and learning a new way of being one to all.

And I’m okay with that.

At every stage of my motherhood there has been this process.

Mourning my time left as a pregnant woman.

Mourning my time left nursing.

Mourning my time left with a baby who still needs me at night.

Mourning the now, before the new.

It’s not being ungrateful or not riddled with excitement for what’s coming,

It’s acknowledging how special the now has become.

It’s celebrating the love I have for what we have now.

It’s recognising what I will never get to experience with them in this way again.

Right now I’m mourning,

And one day my mourning will also include another baby I will hold in my arms,

As they become a piece of all I’ve ever known and the new mother I become.