The word carries differing connotations depending on the words we use surrounding it. This week, to me, it best describes the weight I sometimes feel is carried in my heart, just by loving my child so fiercely. Motherload. The load of the emotions I have for my family is so great, so beautiful, and yet so completely overwhelming that when the world around us seems so ugly and uncertain, the load of my love can almost feel crippling. I'm not a religious person, and I don't even think I have a strong belief in whatever I might call my own spirituality...I generally feel that in raising my daughter I want to teach her through my words, my actions, that we treat one another with grace, dignity, love, and we will see the same in return. But then. Then, these things are proven wrong, again and again. Bombings, shootings, accidental explosions. Innocent people, doing the things they feel to be fulfilling, productive, loving, taken too soon. And sometimes, it just feels like too much for my mama heart to hold, this notion that I can't protect my child purely with love. That even when I do the things I believe to teach her about good, the slinking shadow of hate may still show its face at any given moment.
I've read many bloggers' accounts and thoughts this week following the Boston Marathon bombings about parenthood in this world as we know it. I've been inspired, and brought to tears, and reminded that more than hate, there is love. And I have tried to let it prevail for myself this week, and not to let hate swirling around weigh down my heart. Last night after Norah was asleep, I laid my hand across her chest, feeling the strong, quick beats of her tiny heart. I was overcome by the feeling that from my own body came this perfect creature, so pure and full of promise, so very loved, and so vulnerable. How do we as mamas, carry on, knowing that these little beings we literally grew within our own bodies, are out in the world? I know this is no unique plight, but rather one that I'm sure has weighed on the hearts of mamas for all of our existence.
Mama friends, how do you carry on? What do you talk to your children about if they are old enough to ask questions when things like this happen? I feel like I'm needing my village right now, to share some of the Motherload.