Finding Comfort And Connection With Mothers Despite Pain
Reflections on connecting with mothers while losing control of one’s circumstances
The buzzing and gurgling of an electric tea kettle could be heard from the staircase. Every step down the carpet was heavy, and my bones braced for impact. I pondered if I should dismiss potential shame and go down like my toddler often does, bum down each step.
I chose to walk down the adult way and grabbed a cup of tea before wandering back upstairs and into bed. I watched “The Chosen” and cried when Simon (later Peter) angrily walked toward Jesus in faith despite his heartbreak. I sobbed and let my pain wrap around me like an unwanted hug.
3 pm. I pushed myself out of bed and went to a yoga class. I was outdoors on a covered deck as I watched my fellow classmates, removed from my own stretching practice outside; they chose to be in a heated room of 85 degrees. The heat hurts my body now, and I felt both relief and isolation by this thing, this fibromyalgia, this unpredictable predicament.
I stretched myself like a lizard under heat lamps and listened to the rain. I paused if I had no idea what everyone else was doing and internally congratulated myself for being there. There is not much I can do but this was something. I could look into the window at everyone else for an hour.
In the past couple weeks I have set aside one hour to record a podcast video with 1 out of 5 women, some living in the US and some the UK. A rather limited Western and Caucasian pool of guests but one I’m still grateful for having.
We’ve talked about Nurturing Spaces: Building Community in Motherhood. More specifically we have talked on themes of kindness, creating space for listening, grief and love. In each thirty minute session I find myself smiling and feeling tender at how these women chose to bear witness to the complexity of motherhood.
What a gift.
What a community gift that I receive online, as my own in-person motherhood community shrinks to near nothing.
Sure there are friends who are mothers that I send messages to but my circle of women who I can see in person and bare feeling to about poopy laundry days and work fatigue have dwindled into nothing.
I felt the story of isolation from
as mothers grouped together and left her out. I have been inspired by creating a physical space for women like herself, who needed a place to come together and heal. I have felt the turmoil of grief alongside beautiful joys with becoming a mom withThere are more stories coming up that will have space here. I must remind myself the words of Zoe, to start small around a kitchen table. I must remind myself that I can do that even when my kitchen table isn’t my own nor is my housing situation and I can invite mothers in with the same hospitality in my heart.
My bones hurt and electric shocks and pins and needles run down my body at night. There is a grand feeling of loneliness that feels familiar to the isolation of early motherhood nights.
Yet, there is comfort and connection despite the hard moments: what a gift.
If The Body Keeps The Score, Am I Winning or Losing?
For the past three days, my all-over body pain has had a resurgence. As I type this it feels like I’ve been wearing a face-mask that burns and tingles. My muscles are heavy and easily fatigued. My hands and thighs feel pins and needles but there is no evidence on my skin.
You can now listen to the “In This Season” podcast on Substack OR Spotify
. I’ve also published full transcripts on the Substack platform.
Your series has been a real gift to me personally, and more broadly to the Substack community of women. Thank you, Chanel.
Here and listening, Chanel. I see you in these difficult days and, as Zoe said, send so much love across the ocean to you. You are doing such important and resonant work, friend.x