Category — Motherhood

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To view more picture of our little munchkin, click here.

My latest column exploring fashion and theology is up in Comment Magazine. Madeleine was my inspiration as I considered ‘The advent of personal style.’ Enjoy!

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Also, speaking of fashion, the following invite arrived in the ‘ol inbox this morning. Paul Hardy presents at Vancouver Fashion Week tomorrow. I can’t wait! Paul’s shows never disappoint. 

I hope to bring you back pictures…

Dear One,

I feel like I am in a holding pattern. Waiting for you. Waiting to see your face, smooth as milk. Your almond eyes, bright as the sunset, blue.

The heat is unbearable. I spend my days finding creative ways to escape swollen ankles, upset stomach, sweaty brow.

I wish we were together, you and I. Sitting by water’s edge. My feet dipped in the shore. You, nursing. I long to know you, my dear one. The longing calls out from the bowels, deep. I feel my womb, groaning, to birth you into the world. The thought of it calls me to tears.

Believe me Dear, I have all the love in the world for you. Your eyes will be my treasure, forever. I fear ever letting you go, ever letting the world reach out its blackened hands to touch you.

I imagine your tiny fingers curled, clasping my pinky. Your gentle eyes combing my face. Pure joy. I long to meet such innocence. To meet you, my dear one. Our angel.

We are reaching out our hands. Won’t you come to meet us?

Love Mama

– July 30, 2009

I’ve decided to give my typewriter a place of prominence in our home: on our coffee table. Part aesthetic and part practicality, I think it is a lovely statement of the centrality of words in our world. Many more letters will be written this way, I think. 

A side note about our home: We are moving. But not far. We are selling our condo but are staying the neighbourhood. We have worked so hard to make this area feel like home. We are falling in love with our new little church, we run into more neighbours each day, and we’ve developed a rhythm here in our little neck of the woods. Speaking of woods, we will be living closer to the ravine where Madeleine and I take our daily walks!

Stay tuned about the details of our new digs…

I love this child.

Madeleine wakes with a stumble of pure joy. All squeals and wild giggles. Face ablaze with laughter, peering through whispers of moonlight. A toothless flurry of smiles, all for me. Mama, I see you…

I hear of newborn babies sleeping through the night and for a moment my mind flickers with jealousy, but the picture of my daughter’s saucer eyes eclipses the emotion. My heart crests. A gentle ache. Darling, I see you…

It’s our moment. This 3 AM love.

Emotionally, motherhood is the deepest well from which I’ve ever drank. The Chantal Kreviazuk quote I shared the other day speaks to this. I feel a new lease on life. Freedom. A peace with myself. An altered view of the world.

… Afternoons are spent speaking to trees. Walking through the ravine behind our house, infant in arms, smiling at sunflower gold and the rainbow of rust dancing off branches … 

Spiritually, motherhood is a deep well. There is a sensitivity and awareness growing through the stillness that’s demanded of me.

… I gather up moments of reflection like a blind man reaching out for a steady hand …

Intellectually, socially, and actively, motherhood has seemed abysmal. I don’t expect it to remain this way but I don’t view it as a failure either. For the first time in my life I am the last to know. My evenings are spent inquiring of the day’s affairs from my husband. I gobble up front pages as I pass them by at the grocery store. No reason to purchase the paper, it won’t get read. I am still working on my third story from last weekend’s Globe and Mail. 

Creatively, I can envision motherhood being a deep well. Pictures, projects and stories are steeping in my mind. But where are the moments to write them? Pencil them? Paint them? Collage them? My hands are tied to my child.  

I must trust the hours are coming…

The well is waiting.

A mother lives her life in bursts, or as the book I’m reading aptly puts it, “Between Interruptions.”

I write in between the time Madeleine dozes off and starts rooting around for her next meal. These moments are few, and enormously treasured. 

Madeleine and my first foray into the world was to Starbucks. It was on Day 9. A bright shining day. I read the newspaper for the first time since her birth. This past week she hit the three week milestone and we went to see the Midwife. She clocked in at 11 lb 3 oz. On the way there I filed my nails as Daddy drove. This weekend we embarked on our first adventure, to Victoria, in the safe company of Michael’s parents and the welcoming arms of Island friends. On the ferry deck, as Madeleine slept nestled in a carrier on my chest, I penned these lines:

Forest underfoot, out of sight
ribbons of saltwater taffy
streaming like a
blanket
closing in over
newborn skin.
winds dance over orcas backs
a dozen lazy dominos
waltzing like stars.