Mothering The Mother: How Taking Care of Yourself Makes You a Better Mom

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Mothering The Mother: How Taking Care of Yourself Makes You a Better Mom

When I had my son, a lot of things changed about me. My body definitely looked different. It expanded in a way my mind didn’t know was possible. It confused both my husband and I. Then I was angry at him because he had the nerve to complain about my body (I just had our baby, damn it!) but I was also angry at my body because it had changed so much. I felt it had failed me. This ‘body disappointment’ affected everything else. I wasn’t a resourceful mum, wife and human being. I felt stressed and angry all the time. Here I was, trying to figure out this marriage thing and along comes this baby. With no money, no job, and a baby I was responsible to, I started thinking about how to live. I had to accept all that life was giving me and at the same time, live while I was alive. I knew that if I was feeling that way and having those experiences, there were definitely other mothers (and anyone responsible for children) having the same experiences. Why to do?

Mothering The Mother.

I started thinking about MTM a few years ago. I had no idea what to do or how to go about it but after I birth my daughter, it all made sense. It all came to me. Like the AA meetings, I was going to get 10 mothers or less for intimate meetings to talk and share. Why is talking important? I don’t know but I know that we like talking, that’s why social media groups are springing up and exploding. I like social media, but something about it is incomplete for me. I want to see you when we talk, I want to feel your energy, I want to look in your eyes, cry with you, laugh with you, and maybe we can pray too.
When we come together, we can heal each other. We hold space for the other while they try to stand, as they journey to their own healing.
I believe a mother (or any carer of children) has to be whole in themselves before they can care for the children.
The sick circle of child abuse will stop if all the adults become responsible for all the children. Stories of parents killing children or spouses killing each other is indicative of the hate. We live in a world that is filled with hate. It shows up in different ways. A father beating his child to death, a wife killing her husband, people raping people, uncles stealing the innocence of little girls and boys.
I think that somewhere at the base of all the abuse, hate and violence is a disconnect with self. People are not happy, they go through circles like a rat race and live life very unconsciously. And when it comes to catering to children, they have little of themselves to give. Why is this a problem? I learned that the brain of a human develops very fast between 3 months and 5 years. In that time a lot of patterns that could take the human through life, are formed. If this is true, and I believe it is true, then the people that care for little children need to be aware of how they impact on the little humans. This involves mothers, fathers, nannies, grannies, pre-school teachers and everybody responsible for children.
Why are children important? Because they repeat the circle of life. If they know better, they will be better and perhaps, add to changing the hate in the world to LOVE.
I have a son called Boobman and a daughter called Boobgirl, which makes me Boobmum. I am a humanist. I am passionate about the interests and welfare of human beings especially children. I am told I was born on the 29th of March 1984. In 2013, the year I turned 29, something shifted in my mind. Even though I couldn’t articulate what happened, I knew I had gotten to a place I would never come back from.

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Ese Ark
Ese Ark
I have a son called Boobman and a daughter called Boobgirl, which makes me Boobmum. I am a humanist. I am passionate about the interests and welfare of human beings especially children. I am told I was born on the 29th of March 1984. In 2013, the year I turned 29, something shifted in my mind. Even though I couldn’t articulate what happened, I knew I had gotten to a place I would never come back from.

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