I used to think being a mother was like being the sun. My internal state bursting with rays, constantly nurturing my little seedling. Motherhood felt big and important, a job that had to shine to its fullest potential at all times. The sun is responsible for life, for growing it. People bask in it, they live for the days the sun kisses their faces and warms their skin. It seemed like that was motherhood in a nutshell.
It wan’t until two years into motherhood, as I was standing in the shower watching the shower water mix with my own frustrated, broken tears drizzling down my crater-filled body that I realized I’m nothing like the sun.
I’m better.
I am like the moon.
The mother in the moon
An imperfect beauty
You cannot stare directly into the sun without harming yourself. It shines so bright, you can’t make out the finer details. But the moon? You see her in all her glory. Every blemished crater, every size and shape. And you always think her beautiful.
Since becoming a mother, I have waxed and waned much like her — physically and emotionally. Though there are days I seem to be gone from sight, so retreated into myself or my feelings that I can’t be directly seen, there is a comforting power in knowing I am there.
While the sun is fun, it is fleeting. When she disappears, the world goes gray. But the moon’s absence allows for the stars to shine. There is beauty in her every phase. She shows you her process and all the while keeps a part of herself out of sight, just for herself.
Isn’t that the whole crux of motherhood? We give all we can while we can, and keep remembering there is a secret part we can hold for ourselves.
So, for me, motherhood is like the moon:
Beautiful. Powerful. And full of magic.
