Sitting in the Nest

Two Robin chicks washed out of their nest in the rain storms last week. Perched precariously on the weak branches of a hydrangea tree. 

I found the second one on the stone steps leading down the grotto. Still alive. I saw its leg twitch and cringed as I turned away. My sensitive nature fueling my discomfort with the realities of life and death in the animal kingdom. 

I looked in to the tree from above and saw the Mother sitting in the nest. Her face stone. Is she sitting and mourning her lost babies? Is she sitting and protecting the ones left? 

"Robins don't really have feelings like us", my Mom explained to the kids who had seen the first one and both were curious to look at the second after Matt scooped it up on a shovel to bring to the brook. Death at the water's edge. It seemed more humane. 

But loss is loss, right? 

Later David would see that there were still two chicks in the nest. Somehow that made me feel better. 

As a Mother I connected with that Robin. The stoic nature of her face, that was all my projection on to her because she doesn't have complex emotions like me. 

I've been thinking about value lately. I've been thinking about the role of Mother. How we define ourselves, how we see ourselves projected in to the world. Is it in the birthing and nurturing of our young so they can fly out of the nest? Is it in ensuring all around us are taken care of, and does that include ourselves too? What slips through the cracks? What can fall out of the nest when the storms roll in, especially if we've set up our homes in areas that are weak outside our view? 

What is the work of motherhood? Is it tidying, putting away, washing up and collecting the mess left behind when the family is preoccupied? Is it sitting and watching small children splash and laugh in the bath? Is it meal planning, prepping and budgeting for the week? Is it laying with a child who can't stop her body from moving at the end of the day? Is it cheering from the sidelines as your child explores an art, sport or other activity? And if it is all of that, how do you prioritize? And if it is all of that, who's keeping tabs on how you're doing? You? Your Partner? Your children? No one? 

How does this work? Where do we find our value and how do we first value ourselves without it being perceived as selfish? 

Who makes the rules? Are there rules? If we go down to the animal kingdom level it makes more sense. But we are more complex than that. 

And I get lost in those complexities and find myself focusing on the stuff that I can do, but doesn't necessarily feel the best. 

I can tidy. 

I can wash, dry, fold and put away clothes.

I can cook.

I can wash dishes. 

I can pack lunches. 

But I like watching my kids splash in the bath. 

I like laying with Emilio on his bed and having him point out Lake Victoria to me. 

I like listening to Ava tell me stories. 

Is it like letting them fall out of the nest if I'm not focusing enough on that aspect of mothering? 

Last night I came home after dinner because of work, not even late, just later than usual. 

I was greeted happily at the door with smiling faces and fists clutching popsicles. 

I heard about their days while they dripped sticky sweet juice all over the kitchen. 

Then we had time for a bath, so I filled the bath and plopped them in. 

But.

I also washed their lunch containers and picked up the kitchen while they were trying to tell me about their days.

I put laundry away while they splashed in the bath. 

I was doing five things at once instead of just one. 

And Ava wouldn't settle down to sleep. I was frustrated, had a headache and hadn't eaten dinner yet. 

I went downstairs after 45 minutes of back and forth and slammed doors, and threats and countless placements back in bed, tapped out and just sat on the couch feeling stressed. I knew in the moment what she needed and wanted was just me. Because I was later than usual and then completely distracted when I was with her. 

So I went upstairs and just laid with her.

"Mama," she whispered as I lay down. "Mama," she sighed as she rolled in to me. Moments before she had been crying and I had basically been yelling, "Go to sleep!" and now I was the best gift she'd ever gotten. 

If that's not unconditional love, I don't know what is. 

I keep thinking of that Robin's face. Stoic. Sitting in the nest. In the absence of just being able to sit in the nest, in the presence of the complex realities of motherhood I need to find my place to sit from time to time.  Because the reality is that I'm the one falling out of the nest in the rain storm if I'm not paying close enough attention. 

I keep getting slapped with these reminders. I have to value my role as mother, not my role as a "take care of everything-er".

I have to let more go to be more.