"Motherhood is extremely complicated and difficult, though I suppose some mothers would say it's as natural as breathing." - Yoko Ono
Some days for me it's like breathing, deep and cleansing,
and others more shallow, desperately gasping for air not taken up by children,
like, oh, my God, what have I gotten myself into?
I've been reading Mamaphonic, a book of essays about balancing motherhood and other creative acts (at the recommendation of my long-lost twin Elizabeth, it pains me physically in my heart that we can not live next door to each other, or in a commune together maybe? Someday?) Anyway. Longing.
And in case this post makes it sound like I am in a scary place or something, I am not. Actually, I am seeking and prayerfully asking and receiving. Where my heart is, dangerous, and [finally] living.