Seeking the Light

Parenthood often feels like climbing Mount Everest in the dark. I wonder if I’ve made it harder on myself by having four and then choosing to home educate them all, but in all honesty, I think this is the nature of motherhood.

You do your research and make your plans, running through every possible scenario as you choose the pathway that you’ll take. But you have no idea what will happen once you set off. You can’t predict the variables, the weather, the other people in your group, you can’t even be 100% sure how your body will cope.

You pack a bag. You think you have all the essentials but what really weighs you down are the expectations buried at the bottom.

Then you realise you have to climb in the dark because really this has never been done before. There is no family exactly like yours, who will encounter the same terrain and conditions. You’re on your own. At least that’s what it feels like late at night when the house is finally quiet, and I feel the pressure of responsibility pressing down on my chest. Four lives, each completely unique, but all in my hands. Keep them safe, help them grow inwardly as well as out, and guide them into their futures.

It’s at moments like that when the dark takes on a tangible quality. It seems to move closer and thicken, stealing the air I need to breathe as I try to convince my brain it’s time to shut down. Minutes feel like hours and the dawn seems impossible to reach. I need light, and knowing the switch is not an option, I am left to create my own.

I close my eyes and travel back through my day, bypassing the stressful moments, seeking the highlights, looking for the proof that will quiet my irrational mind.

I find it.

I find my children’s faces.

The light is in their eyes when they look at me overflowing with love. The light is in their eyes when they see something for the first time, or I watch them have a dawning realisation about themselves or the world around them.

Those moments are the magic. The brief seconds when all stress, frustration, and tiredness is pulled away to reveal the utter joy of innocence. The light isn’t reflected, it begins with them and pours over all of the worry and stress, like a fresh dusting of snow over a muddy field.

They remind me of the world outside the noise of my internal dialogue. A world that is comprised solely of our senses and immediate experience. The light is the here and now, with the shadow cast behind us into the past, and the darkness the unknown of the future. Here in this space, I can breathe as my muscles unfurl. I know my why and I can rest.

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in this series "Illuminate".