The Motion of Motherhood

Why are you swaying? You know you’re not holding the baby, right?

I laughed and stopped moving.

But only for a minute. I found myself watching my oldest son dig in the dirt in right field rather than watch the boy up at bat. As I bit a nail and tried to telepathically tell Eddie to stand up, I realized I was swaying again.

I do this a lot–the swaying with no baby in my arms. It’s like my body has become accustomed to a small one being there.

Charlie Bird

If I am standing, I am swaying.

If I am sitting, I am rocking.

When we stand to sing a hymn in church, I sway or bounce regardless if Alice is in my arms or not; it has just become habit.

During “wait time” in my classes, I sway back and forth in front of the room.  I have a bounce in my step when I am walking around reading.

I bounce my leg or shake my foot when I am in  meetings.

Something is always moving.

Something is always looking to soothe.

Eddie Bear

The other night I found myself stroking the blanket next to me because I was used to Charlie’s arm or head nuzzled next to me during before-bed-shows.

When no one is in my arms or in my care, I find my eyes wandering to find my children. Where are they? What are they doing?  I do this even when I am somewhere without my kids. It’s like a reflex. No one in my arms or hanging on my leg? Find them.

I smile more at other moms and other children in stores.

Alice Beans

All of these movements are new to me since I became a mother six years ago.

I used to actually be able to stand still.

I used to be able to sit without leaning in to each sound or bouncing a baby who is not in my arms.

Not anymore.

Now I move to the motion of motherhood.

Because my children are always with me.