I remember the days when I loved being a mother. I drank in every moment and wanted more like someone who hadn’t drank water in days.  It was hard but worth each hour that I put into caring for my children. The night feedings, early morning feedings, all day feedings. The changing diapers and times when I thought I would lose my mind because I had no idea what I was doing. Most days I still don’t. What parent ever really gets it anyway? It didn’t matter to me, I had my babies and loved them with everything that I had.

Then it happened. I had my first miscarriage and even though I healed physically, emotionally I was scorched. Then it happened again and once more. With each time, my feelings as a mother escaped me. I had distain in my mouth and bitterness in my heart with each time they needed me. I no longer had compassion for their needs. I didn’t want to be a mom anymore. I was lost, I still am.

Then came an opportunity to follow a dream that I have had for seven years. To return to a place that my heart never left. I place I visited before I was a wife, before I became a mom. As the doors opened for me to go I walked through them with confidence and excitement knowing that this is what my soul as a mom, wife and woman needs to purge the bitterness and heal the scars that have embedded within.

Months passed, and before I knew it only a few days were left before I was to leave my entire family for an adventure that would remove me from all that I knew from my past six years. I made it a priority to soak up the moments like I used to and I wept. Wept for the mom that I so desperately need  to return, the mom who I once was. The mother that my children deserve and are waiting to return.

Knowing I need to look at them now as I did back then and I wept again. This time for the way I have failed them.

I took the time to lay with each of my children and stare at the tiny person that God created them to be. I stroked their hair and rubbed their skin, remembering the not so long ago baby days. Longing for them to be back but knowing they will never come. Knowing I need to look at them now as I did back then and I wept again. This time for the way I have failed them. It struck me to the very core and for the first time in a long time that mom who had been covered  beneath the loss rose up and I gave me hope for the healing that is ahead.

Motherhood is unrefined and treacherous at times. We can lose who we were as we give of ourselves to our family. Add in grief and as each day passes that we don’t take the time to heal we get covered with another inch of dirt rather than reaching for the life that is all around us. The joy and innocence of our children are a blessing that some don’t ever get the chance to experience. I’m looking forward to embracing motherhood once again without the pain that weighs me down.

Sometimes we need to leave so we can return to who we were or better yet, to mature into a mother better than before.