When “Nobody Saw You”

There’s so much truth here, and so much love from the friend who wrote it for her mom friend…be prepared to cry! (In a good way. 🙂

 

Nobody saw you,

nobody at all

at 3am when

they woke again.

Nobody saw you

picking up the peas,

wiping up the beans,

emptying the laundry basket,

taking out the bins

again

and again.

Nobody saw the crust of toast

that fell out of your bra when you got undressed at night,

such a glamorous life

being mum

wiping noses

washing faces

trying to stay calm.

(for Pete’s sake)

Nobody saw you

when you were so bored of playing princess ninja pirate turtles

but you said, ‘ok,

just five more minutes,

just one more time,

just one more go,

just one more round’

and then said it again ten minutes later.

Nobody saw you

holding the toddler who wouldn’t be put down

but also wouldn’t go in the buggy

but also wanted to walk but only in the opposite direction

and ‘oh look!

a stick/discarded lolly/dog poo/pebble/cigarette butt/the sky!’

Nobody saw you holding the sick bucket in the night

or on the way back from school

nobody saw you holding a jacket,

a rucksack, a book bag, a sunhat,

a scooter, the baby, a half-eaten apple

and an art project made out of three cereal boxes taped together

and covered in glitter glue,

holding soft little hands at bed time,

holding angry little bodies still kicking and shouting,

holding it together,

holding on,

holding a hungry little head

to a boob as hard as concrete

in those early days

of chaos.

Nobody saw you winding the bobbin up

and winding it back again

and pointing to the ceiling

and pointing to the floor

and pointing to the window

and pointing to the door.

Nobody saw you when it was raining again

and the kids were sick

and you didn’t leave the house for three days.

Nobody saw that.

Nobody saw how many times you watched ‘The Gruffalo,’

on the third day,

how many times you read about what happened to igglepiggle’s blanket

or the one about the inappropriate pets

sent by the zoo.

Nobody saw you in the car

when you dropped the baby off for the first time

when you promised yourself you wouldn’t

but you cried all the way home

all the same.

Nobody saw when you were empty

but you gave something

but you made something

but you thought of a game

but you said sorry to a little face

for being cross, for snapping again.

I haven’t seen you for a while

we haven’t chatted for too long

but I when I see those lovely pictures of your kids

you post sometimes

I feel like I am seeing you,

the mum behind the kids

behind the babies

and the bumps

and the toddlers smiling into the camera

I see the wipes and the nappies and the games and the songs

I see the snot and the poo and the tantrums and the kisses

I see you putting little arms

into little cardigans

and brushing tiny teeth.

(whilst being kicked in the face)

Nobody sees all of the things that you do

all of the ways that you manage

and with questions like,

‘So when are you going back to work?’

You can end up feeling like one of the hardest jobs

you have or will ever have done

is simply reduced to dossing around at home.

Nobody sees you sometimes

but you are building something

that will never be torn down

a love that cannot be removed

and sometimes it is boring

and sometimes it is the worst

and sometimes you have never been happier

Nobody saw how much you gave

every day

every night

every 5am

every 5pm

every moment.

Have I ever told you

that I think

you are such a wonderful Mum?

Let’s get pissed together soon ok?

~Anonymous

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One of my Favorite Poems of All Time

This is one of my favorite poems of all time, because it reminds us that feelings come and go. They might barge in unwanted sometimes, but they never stay forever. If we sit with them, they can be our best teachers. Sometimes they are here to clear the way for something new. So trust in that as you go through your day. And feel free to share this poem with other parents you know, who might need a word of encouragement as they process all the feelings and changes in this crazy season of life. 

The Guest House 

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

by Rumi

translation by Coleman Banks

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Comics FTW

I don’t 100% know why art rattles something out of its slumber in my chest, but when I recently found out about this series of comics by illustrator Molly McIntyre @brooklyn_rabbit , my heart awoke and did a happy dance! Molly’s comics meet you right where you ought to be, at the intersection of truth and humor, like this fantastic motherhood comic on www.everydayfeminism.com below. (How I wish I had known some of these things from the start!)

To top it off, Molly and my shero, social worker Karen Kleiman of @postpartumstress , teamed up for a raw, heartwarming, and humorous series of comics that they’re calling their #speakthesecret project. These comics are exactly what we need. Motherhood is messy and beautiful and hard. So let’s say what’s truly on our minds. Or draw it. Whatever works for you.

Creating art out of the feelings of loss and confusion is the most life-affirming thing we can do. It was the part of my healing process that I recommend to everyone. Even if you don’t think of yourself as artistic, there’s a creative bone in your body, somewhere, looking for an outlet. It’s especially important because when we’re honest about how we’re feeling, it frees up another person to be honest about how she’s feeling, and then we realize we’re no longer alone. And we can get some of the much-needed help that we deserve.

 

What have you created recently to express yourself?

 

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Why the Afterglow?

I found this painting and fell in love with the name, of course, but mostly the interplay of light and shadow. I want to create my own version of it to hang on a wall somewhere in our new house, to inspire me whenever I see it to keep spreading light each day. Orange gives me energy. 🙂

Afterglow, by Seda Baghdasari

Why call the support group the Afterglow? As I went through the shadow of Postpartum Depression and Anxiety myself, the image kept coming to mind of the light that lingers after the sun sets, radiant yet casting shadows.

Expectations weigh heavy on new parents, especially the expectation to be happy all the time. Society seems to expect a mother to simply bask in the afterglow of having given birth, when actually, it can be physically traumatic; and while creating new life is an accomplishment beyond words’ ability to express, it can also leave some parents feeling like a shadow of their former selves.

The afterglow is not enough. What is required is a complete reinvention of ourselves as parents… and a continual choice to turn towards the light. No small feat!

 But the afterglow is hopeful, too, for though the sun sets each night, leaving us in the dark, it also promises to rise each day, giving us hope that the light will return.

So this group is about sitting in the shadows together, taking the small but necessary bits of time to grieve their dark presence. Only by properly grieving losses can we create space to learn new tools so that we can appreciate, harness, and bask in the light again.

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