I find myself on the brink of in between. In between an end and a new beginning. Life as a mother of one and life as a mother of two. How could a blessing as beautiful as this be anything but complete bliss? But something in me is mourning. I fear I am leaving something behind during this passage from one to two.
I am mourning the passing of time. The last little baby I held so closely in my arms was our sweet Lucy girl – now a big girl in her very own right and so ecstatic to be a sister. I don’t know that I will ever know a greater love in life than that of seeing two of my little girls holding hands and growing up together – I know this in my heart to be true. But it does not make it easier to acknowledge the passing of time. How sacred, cherished and divine each and every moment is when you have a young family. At times, I find myself looking at my life as though I am an old woman – although I am in the moment now, I think about how much I will miss these moments when I am old. It keeps me present and grounded in those inevitable moments of motherhood toil.
I came across a poem that resonated with me so deeply, it brought me to tears…
“The last days of pregnancy – sometimes stretching to agonizing weeks – are a distinct place, time, event, stage. It is a time of in between. Neither here nor there. Your old self and your new self, balanced on the edge of a pregnancy. One foot in your old world, one foot in a new world. Shouldn’t there be a word for this state of being, describing the time and place where mothers linger, waiting to be called forward? Germans have a word, zwischen, which means “between”. I suggest that they are now in The Time of Zwischen. The time of in between, where the opening begins. Giving it a name gives it dimension, an experience closer to wonder than endurance.” – Jana Studelska