[I'll begin with a disclaimer. I celebrate and am in awe of all the Dads who are partnering with the Mamas to nurture and protect your young ones during this time. I write from a mother's perspective and would not dare to assume I that I remotely know what that's like for you. Kudos for who you are and what you do. Perhaps one of you will write a piece For All The Dads. We'd love that!]
My heart is stretched with many prayers these days.
Top of the list right now is all the Mamas. Especially the ones at home with new babies. Especially the ones who are guiding their children in distant learning. Especially the ones trying to work from home. Especially the ones cut off from the family and friends who, in another reality, would be your 'village' in a hands-on concrete, play-date, let-me-hold-the-baby-for-a-while, out-for-ice-cream, or sleep-over-at-Gramma's kind of way. And VERY especially for those for whom all of the above is your reality in this momemt.
The mothering you are doing right now is nothing short of heroic!
These nurturing-band-new-people days are intense. Even in the best of times. I remember them well, and I'm almost 40 years past them! The times when I would get an overwhelming sense of accomplishment if I got the bed made. The times when the evening 'colic' (did anyone ever find out what that really was?) would hit like clockwork at 7:15 and run until 9:30 every night, reducing us all into a big sobbing mess. The times when the one task of feeding these little humans seemed to obliterate anything else I might dare to hope to do in a day, hence that swell of wonder if I got the bed made. The times when sleep deprivation made it ever so convincing that the balled up sock in the hallway was crawling its way towards me. Those days.
And in none of this was I required to isolate. Heaven forbid! The group of sister-moms I belonged to was my lifeline! Play dates were essential! Just a walk down to Tim's for a tea and some Timbits was a grand outing that could redeem the most wretched of days. My own kids didn't have Grammas that were geographically close enough, but in the community of faith they were certainly passed around as if.
So, Brave Wonders, know this. I am in awe of you! You and your wee littles are not forgotten. Not by us, not by God. By a God who sees a sparrow fall? No way. Every bit of this He's, on it with you.
And right here and right now I so want to offer some sort of guidance or wisdom, but I really have nothing. Because....how different this is from any sort of parenting anyone's done in probably a hundred years! What could any of us from our generation offer you, as much as we'd long to? But perhaps some of the mama mantras that carried us through may be even just a little bit helpful. Just a little? And with that faint hope in mind...
It's not easy being the world's future (for when they are crying). Celebrate the little things (like making the bed). There will come a time when they sleep through the night/cut their own food/wipe their own bums. Fresh air is sometimes the best cure for crazy. Watch them for a little bit when they're asleep. Do one thing each day that's just for you. Your child isn't the only one that's growing, so pay attention to all that's transforming in you. This too shall pass.
Reach out. Trust your network. They're still your village.
And just one final note. You really have no idea what your nurture is preparing them for. The picture above is of my daughter Kristyn, age two, in a tender moment with her new baby brother David. She's now mothering through a pandemic herself, heroically so.
Love to you Mamas! Love and power and tenacity and peace and grace and wonder.
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