I learned from a young age, the arts of achievement and competition. From the speed of the sports fields to the never-ending halls of academia, there seemed to always be a reward or metaphorical carrot dangling just beyond my reach.
After two kids and 15 years of marriage, I’ve learned a thing or two about the power of slowing down and considering my surroundings with more intention and feeling. In the often-mysterious plot twists of life, slowing down has led me to breakthroughs and new possibilities.
One of the superpowers of motherhood is to witness joy and contentment in tiny moments, such as the heavy breathing of my infant sleeping on my chest, to the light-up moment of my new kindergartner realize she’s part of a larger community. But to slow down is a loaded term . . . how much, and when?
Louisa Carter, former board member and friend of MMP
If I slow down and settle into motherhood, will the world remember me when and if I speed up again? How do I move between worlds of fast-paced and slow-down? Or better yet, how do I create a new world?
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Before motherhood, I was always moving at a speed that was unsustainable for my body-mind. During early motherhood, in the slow nap-drenched afternoons, I wanted to hang-on to every moment; it satisfied a deep longing of mine. However, there was something else there, a nagging, a desire of more. This led me to explore balance between my need to slow and my need to express myself in the outside world.
I took on motherhood like an academic project; it called to me like a freshly printed book on the shelf. But this book promised more than rote knowledge, it was like a time travel machine; one that would reunite me with the hazy corners of my past. In this journey I have been able to connect with my passed-over pain and my frozen tears; the parts of myself that still longed to be held and expressed and shown the light of the stars. Filled with a combination of love, awe, and fear, I fastened my seatbelt, turned the dial and dove in.
First, I was met with grief. The joy of a long-awaited pregnancy faded into a gaping hole of fallow pain, when an unviable embryo took shape instead. The waves of motherhood are many: I first learned to ride a wave, only to have my board break and send me back to the shore. Now, with two healthy children, and with each step into the future, I face new challenges: creating screen time boundaries in a 24-hour streaming culture, healing and integrating my own intergenerational trauma without passing it on, and managing the constant mental load and societal expectations of being a “good mom.” It has felt dizzying, and monotonous. How to do it all and keep my sanity?
One day this spring, I pulled into Costco, turned off my car and grabbed my phone to read the incoming message, from my husband. I read the text: “You should do this.” I opened the link to a 4-day inner-quest women’s wilderness retreat. Every part of my body lit up, as if a little child opening a birthday gift. I scrolled to the date to see it was the same day as my 5-year-old daughter’s tap/ballet recital. Darn. I texted back, “I can’t go.” As soon as my fingers left the phone screen, I felt a pang of disappointment and simultaneous spark of possibility. “Why not?” he replied, not validating any of my alarm, “She’ll be fine.” At this moment, my world split open. I re-sorted my own needs from my daughter’s and clearly defined what was past and what was present. Yes, she would be fine, I could see it.
Fast forward. We both embarked on our solo endeavors, hers with yellow tulle and black shiny tap shoes, mine with a backpack and tent. As she stepped on the stage, I stepped back into my wild, to sit in circle and listen to what my body has been trying to tell me. We both emerged a little bit stronger, filled with a little bit more grace and confidence in going through a new experience. I realize that motherhood is not only a journey through time, but it is also one of tuning into and amplifying what is already here, waiting for me in each moment.
Each new experience propels me one step further into the unknown, where I have felt a little bit more of my power that has lain dormant within. When the world starts speeding up, it is my reminder that I can control my dial of momentum, and move forward or stop, to pause and breathe and see what new possibility is at my fingertips.
