This is a regular series every Monday that comments on what I am learning about my own journey through motherhood...the peaks, the valleys, the pathways and the vast oceans. Letting go of the past. This is a difficult process for me, as I tend to idealize what once was, forgetting the scratches and the pitfalls and only remembering the light. Living in the past allows me to remain distant from my present, distracted and not open to what is the now.
Our trip to the City of the Rocks this past weekend was magical and so much fun. It didn't start out this way, as we arrived with a fussy, tired four month old and three adults who were anxious and eager to get out of the truck after the four hour drive. Memories of what life used to be like, traveling to the remote Idaho climbing area with only Jamie and a handful of friends, came flooding over me. It was harder having a kid at the City of the Rocks. This was a new fresh experience and it made me grieve what once was, the rawness of motherhood welling up again and causing me to look at my life with new eyes. Another facet of my life thrown up in the air and allowed to come down in a new pattern that felt foreign. How to be a climber and a mother, what did this look like?
How easily I forgot the struggles that I had in the past at the City, how I would compare myself endlessly to other female climbers, how I would shed a tear (or more) when I couldn't get up a climb because of my fear, how I would go into total dependence mode with Jamie and loathe it at times. None of these issues came up, mostly because I was mostly focused on being a mama to Sam and spending as much time as possible with Claire. And this shift allowed me to have so much fun climbing, a certain seriousness melting away and the need to be something I am not taking a backseat to nursing my child, making dinner, and enjoying a moonrise.
And Sam did great! His sleep adjusted. He loved spending so many hours in the outdoors feeling the air and sunshine. He laughed a great deal and talked and kicked up a storm. It was wonderful having him there, allowing his little hands to feel rock and aspen bark, watching his eyes follow his daddy as Jamie made his way up the rock.
I am learning how important it is to be here, in this moment. To remember that the past is valuable to learn from but that it isn't picture perfect and that residing there can only cause heartache. Like Olive dog, Sam is so in the now, crying when he needs something and easily moving into a flood of smiles moments later, forgetting the tears. Little lessons reside all around me daily, from my son to my dog. I have to remember that what is being created here is my life, a new look for sure with the role of motherhood, and that I have the choice to look at it with curiosity and excitement or with eyes positioned behind me.