I AM A LION. I AM A MOTHER.

  
Pregnancy and birth do strange things to a mama. Maybe it’s just me, but a lion that I didn’t know existed woke up in me​ when my daughter was born.

People make well-meaning comments and willingly inform me how they raised their babies differently. (Thank you. But that’s not what my baby likes, so either adjust or give her back when she’s upset.) People reach for her without asking permission, as if it’s a right and not a priveledge to touch a child not their own. Everyone wants to hold the beautiful result of the 9 month marathon called pregnancy. They want to enjoy the free benefits, but they aren’t the ones that have been there since the beginning and for the long haul. They aren’t there to comfort an overstimulated baby after she’s been around too many people. 

These are the things that make the lion wake up.

Modern culture has cheapened the sacred nature of parent and child in my opinion. Things are conventional instead of guided by God give instincts.

I love that my daughter brings a smile to faces and inspires miracles,  (my dream- her destiny) but there is a part of me that roars to create boundaries when I feel disrespected or belittled in my new role as the nurterer of her little body and soul right now. This is what I would say to anyone unfamiliar with postpartum and matriarchal instincts:

I grew a new human for nine months. I puked, lost sleep, and gained weight. I ate, drank, and moved with her in my mind. My skin tore purple marks as my womb, along with my heart enlarged to carry this gift. I carried her close to my heart for 279 days. Just because she is earth side now doesn’t mean I am any less bonded to her. In fact, it makes the pain of love greater because there can be separation. I am fiercely protective of that bond. No severing of an umbilical cord can make her any less part of me.

I labored for 18 hours, and pushed for 3 of those. My soul went to the grave and resurrected with new life: I became a mother. I was the one who was handed a wriggling infant, still wet with the vernix that protected her inside of me. 

I was the one who bled for days and weeks as my body miraculously knit itself back together after being ripped open in the most beautiful sense of the word. I was the one who cried in the evenings as hormones raged, my body screamed in pain, and I adjusted to a new normal. I was the one and still am the one who keeps this sweet baby alive with my own body. I have nursed her every few hours (day and night) for 84 days now. I live with that constant responsibility. 

Being a mother is the most demanding, heart expanding reality I have ever known. I’m the one who knows what her cries mean, and I’m the one who comforts and cries with her in the unexpected times that I don’t. 

My mama heart says:

If you arent the one to put in the blood, sweat, and tears of love, be quiet unless it’s a positive, upbuilding voice to new mothers.

So yes, that is why I am a lion with boundaries. That is why I risk appearing rude in order to nurture and care for my baby the best way that my instincts and inspiration know how. I am a mother. Nurture is what mothers do by heart. 

Brenda Kanagy