Laying Low

Learning about the oxytocin haze we're designed to bliss out in been so freeing. It feels deliciously wise and counter-cultural to focus purely on restoration and nurturing. As newborn mothers, I believe our quiet retreat from the clamor and fray of society in the long run will prove to be so life giving to our bodies, our babies, our marriages, and eventually our communities. Time will tell. Rushing healing has a price and it takes a lot of humility to let yourself be weak and walk softly on a path with little accolades or support. To trust that in surrendering to the cyclical, oft-denigrated, invisible labor of tending to the little children that you've brought into the world with your lover - you're making space for abundance and more ease and dug-deep joy. I'm learning to work with my body and not against it. To intuit it's rhythms. To be tender myself and others. To cease striving to prove my worth with tangible, quantifiable marks of productivity. I've chosen a strategic season of lay low and go slow. I don't think I'll ever regret in loving in this extravagant way. I nurse both our babies laying in our family bed at the end of the long days watching the sky mute and darken as they wrestle and sweetly writhe for milk. By staying still to give day after day in this slow way, our baby son has grown ruddy and thick and lets out deep belly laughs. Our toddler girl is graceful and strong and sweet and silly and tenacious. I'm discovering reserves I didn't know - patience at wait in the marrow of my bones. In my husband's arms at night we whisper about how the days will never quite be just like these again, etched with sacrifice and deep purposeful giving. We ebb and flow with ingenuity, beauty, sighs, and agility daily. I notice I'm growing too. And it all started with being still and honoring where I was buried - a tiny bright seed - trembling underground. May you be reborn in your mothering too.

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Alexa Heung