It’s only since becoming a mama that I have experienced true bliss.

An all-consuming tingle of joy, a sense of being right where I am supposed to be. Completely present in the moment.

And it’s only since becoming a mama that I have experienced despair.

An all-consuming exhaustion, a feeling of failure, inadequacy and pain. Impossible tears.

How is it that those stories sit side by side so comfortably?

Does each give greater potency to the other?

There is bliss in moving away from despair. In learning that I cannot fail when I trust my instincts, that good enough is good enough, and pain will pass.

There is bliss in the moments where I let myself be.

As I step deeper into motherhood, I try to count the successes more than the failures.

And when I struggle, I try to slow myself down.

I move away from the computer screen. I look at something close up. I focus on nature, on the magic of my children’s growth. I take a moment to remember where my eyes have lingered today.

I doodle. I dance. I smile. I stretch. I let myself rest. I hold a precious memory of bliss and remind myself that this will come again.

There is a moment from the challenging early days of motherhood so precious I can call myself back there with a breath:

My son and I lie on clean sheets under a cream waffle blanket striped with sunshine. There are things to do, so many things to do, but I am finally allowing myself to rest with the baby who hasn’t slept all night.

I am focusing on that tiny hand in mine, so fragile and so strong. On the cool breeze carrying seagull calls across the quiet. On the warmth of a soft body snuggled in under my chin, toes tickling my tummy.

I am my baby and my baby is me. All is well. And my heart swells and I cry with joy, and am so glad to feel it all. 

Now bliss comes in watching my laughing children run, swing higher, become braver and bolder.

The arrows from my bow. And an unbearable pain at letting them go. A fear of loss that brightens their aliveness. Like the taste of rain on the stormy day when you have just lost a dear friend. 

And bliss comes in moments I’m away from my children. Staking out precious time for me. To rest, to create, to be nurtured. Their absence blissful, because they are there to return to. 

Motherhood is raw and smooth, painful and beautiful. It is vital and exhausting, magical and miserable.

A fully embodied life that accepts contradictory companions. Joy and loss.

This, is bliss.

This month, we’re coming together to make some creative mama me-time and record where our eyes have lingered today – in doodles and words. We’d love you to join us. Come play with us over here.