A Mother is a Phoenix

Last night, I was reflecting on motherhood and how incredibly happy I am – but motherhood has been a journey for me. I am getting to grow as a person now and I really feel like I’m winning at motherhood at this particular moment (I’m fully waiting on toddlerhood to knock me down a few pegs, but I want to celebrate my wins).

My journey into motherhood took me through postpartum depression and feeling like I lost myself and it took me so long to figure out how to be a mother and a person, too. This poem is my journey.

A Mother is a Phoenix

I once read that the old self dies when the mother is born.
My heart broke –
because I didn’t want the person I was before
to wither away to nothing
to cease to exist
to die. 

But I scratched and clawed in the early weeds of motherhood,
trying to nurture my wildflower
trying to give every drop of myself to my daughter 
to give her the moon.
Because I thought to be a good mother
meant to smother my old self
so she would die
so that my daughter could thrive.

But I didn’t thrive.
Instead I despaired
of the mother I was trying to be
and making that my only identity.
I wanted to keep my old self
and be the best mother, too.

But my old self withered away
because I pushed her deep down,
ignoring all of me
to only water someone else.
And my old self died. 

But a mother is a phoenix
and from the ashes I rose:
the woman I was and the mother I am
together
triumphant. 
A woman at her best:
creating, making, thriving.
A mother deep in her soul: 
loving, teaching, nurturing.
Finally both a woman and a mother.

I once read that the old self dies when the mother is born.
It’s not because the old self ceases to exist,
but because the fabric must be unraveled  
so the strand of motherhood can be woven through the whole tapestry
of who she is:
a mother and a person.

And better to be both those things.