Strong In My Softness
my femininity in mothering
I had a lover once who loved my belly — my soft mama belly. He’d lay his head on my bare belly sometimes and tell me how much he honored and respected that part of me. It’s not a big belly, but it is soft enough to be a nice pillow.
He told me that he loved it because of how it represented the most beautiful part of me (to him) — my being a mom. He knew how much I loved my children and had been taught my greatest lessons by my children. My experience as a mother had been difficult to say the very least. I had been alone and lonely so much of that time. But my children kept me going. Knowing they depended on me kept me moving and happy enough to endure the hardship. I didn’t have a partner who was present or aware of my needs on any level. He was capable of neither of those.
My children tease me a lot. One of the things they tease me about is being soft…not being a “tough” mom. I was pretty easy on my kids, I guess. I was nothing like my own mother, as amazing as she was. But I wanted my kids to have childhoods, something I never had. I wanted them to have time to play and explore outside, read books, and make quality friends. I didn’t have those things either.
I wanted to listen to them when they were angry and try to see what the problem really was, rather than meet them with anger. I…
