the simple raw beauty of motherhood

He was sleeping.

He fell asleep in the middle of a pile of pillows on the family room floor while the afternoon light danced around him. That little body, that three year old gluten free body, decided enough was enough and the nap became inevitable.

And then, then the moment came, the cries of sadness, and that sweet little one woke up in a bit of sobbing terror.

Those little feet came hurrying up the stairs and his sweet voice cried for me.

Momma. Momma. Momma.

 

Nothing else in that moment really mattered. Not the dishes, not the fact that there was a mess on the table. Not that I had one hundred thirty-four emails in my urgent box. Not that I didn’t have a plan for dinner. Not that my hair was messy. Not anything.

He, my boy, needed his mother.

And in that moment that was all that mattered.

That little head, which minutes before was resting on those pillows in the sun, burrowed into my shoulder and his body racked with sobs.

 

Did you have a bad dream, Samuel?

All it took was one little shake yes, and I knew. I knew not to ask any more questions, not to try to fix it, not to rush the moment. I knew to simply hold him. In my arms as that same afternoon sun danced upstairs around us.

A mother is a powerful thing.

Sometimes we look to the big things – the organized homes, the perfect schedules, the times of not messing up – and we overlook the power in the simplest moments where we give of self oblivious of space and time.

That’s love.

 

It cannot be taught, really. It’s just that deep pit of love that wells within and makes you oblivious to the list of urgents that is taped to the fridge. And those are the moments that when you and I reach the end of our days that we will remember and be utmost grateful for. We’ll clang our sweet tea glasses with two ice cubes and we’ll remember with sweet nostalgia the moments where we simply were able to be.

The moments that I think will matter won’t be the large advertised moments.

They’ll be the simple.

The hugs in the afternoon light.

The words I love you whispered in one’s ear.

 

The being willing to let life and time move while you sit with the one you love.

The being willing to be vulnerable.

The being willing to give of your heart bit by bit by bit.

Those motherhood moments are life gifts.

Find them.

Don’t let them go.

 

We’ll celebrate them someday.

We’ll celebrate those moments dancing in the sun.

The little ones rocked. The broken crayons held.

The times we just were.

I know it.

~Rachel

*****

These photos were taken by my photographer daughter, Hannah.  She wrote about these pictures today calling them – sacred moments. I remember hearing the camera while I comforted Samuel, but was so focused on him that I didn’t care that she was quietly taking pictures. These shots are ones that I am profoundly grateful for – they are pure love and care in the moment. ~Rachel

Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.