The love that changed me without trying
A quiet look back at the love that raised me while I raised them.
Hey, you made it. I’m happy you’re here. The Thing of It Is… is where I lay down what I’ve learned in the quiet; the lessons, the healing, the becoming.
If my words have met you where you are, you can support my work by becoming a paid subscriber or leaving a one-time tip. Every bit helps me keep writing the stories and poems that I hope find their way back to you.
Some of the best poetry I’ve written lives in a book that I don’t talk about. It’s a collab with my first husband and I. It now holds some of the most beautiful words I’ve woven together, especially about my babies, and I hate it.
I don’t really hate it.
But it is a bitter sweet reminder of a life where my identity was too intermingled with my relationship. I didn’t ask why then, I just folded to the pressure, and to be clear, yes, there was pressure for things to be that way. It was performative. It didn’t fulfill my need to be loved because it wasn’t sustainable.
You live, you learn, and you get older. But at the end of the day, the love that lasts, the one I carry for my kids gets to live there. How lucky for those feelings and words to have a home.
I didn’t have an easy time with either of my pregnancies. Carrying my son was hard in the beginning with complications that came after I gave birth that landed me being hospitalized for 3 days when he was just 8 days old. With my daughter, the pregnancy itself was easy for the most part. I felt beautiful. I was happy. I didn’t have many complaints. I gave birth to her alone during a pandemic, with two masks on. Laboring alone was tough and at the time felt like such an insurmountable task. But looking back, I was a warrior, and I didn’t give myself nearly enough credit.I caught her when she came into this world. I was the first to hold her, kiss her, give her warmth.
I’ve watched them grow, achieve their milestones, be excited for their first words, watching them stand, walk. Motherhood isn’t easy or perfect, but it has taught me so much about myself. They are these little mirrors running around, shedding light to the truth of my character. And I can’t pretend I always get it right, but I have learned how to repair in those moments.
I’m rambling, but what I’m really saying is I love my kids so much and they know it. That’s the part I’m most proud of, that they can feel it.
I wrote this poem about them when they were just babies. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for coming down memory lane with me.
I wanted to post this poem, but it’s currently still in its raw form and I decided to let it live that way a bit longer.
Btw, this is the book
I love this song, it seemed fitting to let it live here