I told you I loved you when we said goodbye on the phone tonight. You didn’t respond back; I don’t think you heard me. But, my friend, my love is with you indeed. I want you to know that. I used to not be able to say the “L” word to my girl friends. My soul-sister T taught me the power of feminine love and the peaceful flow that comes from releasing it. I offer it to you with gratitude; for your friendship and trust and the way you humor me with my idiosyncrasies and cheap-ass shopping addictions.
When we met just over a year ago, I watched you with the intensity and awe of a sunset melting into a forever ocean. You were so different then me, my first real interaction with an “AP” mama, so confident with your second baby. I felt as if I was fumbling through this motherhood thing and you approached it with the ease and grace of breath upon breath. With your little bean nestled in your sling you moved around your house, making lunch, as if you were utterly unhindered. In fact, the ease at which you parented, coupled with your total loving surrender to your baby’s needs, overwhelmed me completely. In a good way. Because of you, I changed my outlook on mothering and am grateful in a way I probably never shared with you before. Because of you, my Kaia hasn’t had to “cry it out”, or hear “no” around every corner, or go without nursing simply because she just got off the boob five minutes ago. Her needs are my needs are her needs. It’s a beautiful, crazy thing.
So, in this seemingly short time we’ve bonded together we’ve kinda done a lot. We shared secrets over my first alcoholic drink in a years time (Sangria!), you enthusiastically volunteered to be my personal counselor for some ridiculous issues I’ve not been able to let go of, we traveled to CA in a hot RV full of babies and our wonderful husbands, we shopped for a sexy, nursing-friendly wedding outfit for you, and I think we’ve probably enjoyed a lot of chocolate together. We rode ocean waves together, giggling and splashing about like teenagers, testing our courage against the tide. And, you still loved me and laughed at me after I showed up three hours late to your daughter’s birthday party (as it was ending).
You were the one who
insisted I nudged me to follow my doula path, who told me “Leigh, someday someone is going to ask you to attend their birth and you’re just going to have to get over it”. For that, I whisper my thanks to you each time I hold a brand new life in my humble arms. You are definitely the bright gold poppies along the side of the road on my life’s journey; even a quick glance or encounter with you and I’m left refreshed and smiling.
Next time we are together, we don’t have to talk about quantum physics or your birth story of your future births…we can stride in our stilettos like the hot mamas we are and pretend, for a few hours, that we won’t be called back to nurse our babes to sleep. We can eat chocolate and not give a damn how or when the calories may be burned off. We will paint ourselves like warrior goddesses and lay under the stars, seeking the “millions trust and none at all”. I will be there when you stumble upon the spiritiuality and ritual you seek and I will reassure you it was always within you. You don’t hide from your light, nor crouch within it’s shadows. I love that about you.
Perhaps your faith “is like shifting sand, changed by every wave”. And I think that’s a totally amazing thing.
“To bend like a reed
in the wind
– that is real strength.
Use your mind, but stay close to the light
And it will lengthen its glow
right through your life.”
– Tao te Ching
Maybe my only influence on you is that I love you