Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

All a mother needs for strength these days are in the eyes of those she birthed. For her, nothing remains the same and opening up is like Spring season, a moment when words start to speak on their own whether silently or loud. For her, the sun never goes down. The moon is like a lamp and its light makes her fertile as her words, these words, speak of a motherhood no one sees, like having a bowl of candy no one eats. For her, life is never at ease with the weight she carries not when so many tomorrows remain unborn even though she is in labor today and sees with her eyes what her mind is speaking walking praying and still counting on delivering as dreams. For her, these words spoken or written out loud never die from overexposure so long as they murmur like a heartbeat and speak of how nurturing often hurts and is a mystery that will leave you staring direct at the sun.

I have had a rough week with motherhood. Yesterday, one of my boys was dragged out of his soccer practice for yelling over and over of how he couldn’t do it. He is 4. It began after another one kicked a cone away all because he couldn’t score a goal. He is 8. They say these phases pass away so hold on to them for as long as you can. No one tells you how to act in the moment, especially when speaking to 4 year olds or 8 years olds is like a losing battle. While this description pales in comparison to what really happened as we look back, we are still grateful for the many phases of motherhood we experience daily.