In this moment, we are all OK

18 May 2020


I had twins almost 6 months ago and the entire center of gravity has been the bedroom and more specifically our new Ecosa California King mattress upon which I nurse, sleep, eat, and work. It’s the biggest mattress we could buy, bought with idyllic visions of the whole family snuggling up together on rainy Saturday mornings.


This bed is a sanctuary and a prison. It is a place of utter love but I’ve joked that I need a bell to clang around to get my husband’s attention for things like water or lunch or a pee break - things we take for granted without realising that once you become a mother, the memes are true - You can shower, eat, and sleep but not all in the same day and Goddess forbid you want or need to also work. It’s no wonder self care has become so intrinsic during lockdown - If relieving my bladder makes me feel human, brushing my hair and dabbing blush my cheeks is positively decadent. I feel sadly desperate having to ask for a pee and like there’s a massive leap from here to the powerful working woman and infinitely loving, patient mother who emerges with proper sleep and a bit of self love.


Sometimes I perform what feel like impossible feats - followed by a methodical planning stage wherein I tease out the nuanced strategy for safely moving two babies at once without damaging any soft tissue or electronics and simultaneously tightening my pelvic floor (because it’s the only core muscle i have left). Simple tasks like getting to the dining table unfold before me and I start to honestly believe that where there is a will, there is a way.



As I write this, I’m sitting outside on the grass on a play mat with the twins. August is vocalising his frustration at tummy time and Astrid placidly sits upright supported by my elbow as I type. This is multitasking at its height - tummy time, nature, fresh air, and mommy gets to work. It must look idyllic and almost feels idyllic. I feel victorious. It can be hard to focus with screeching babies and the physical contortions necessary to type each letter; most emails are penned with just three agile fingers hopping across the keyboard. I take deep breaths and know that in this moment, we are all OK.


May peace be with you,


XOXO

Hannah



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Reach out via cell at 203.788.1993, or email at kathy@peaceplaceforkids.com or hannah@peaceplaceforkids.com

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