The End of Alone Time

Less than a week out from our estimated due date and things are getting real. Exciting. Wonderful. And yes, a teensy bit overwhelming.

I had a moment last week where the pre-shock of motherhood started to hit. And hit hard.

Though this little one knows exactly when his birthday is, a session with my chiropractor gave me a heads up it might be a bit sooner than expected. I told him I still needed to do some things like wash baby clothes and order nursing bras. He said to order the bras ASAP.

I left the office feeling a little unmoored.

Don’t first time mama’s go late? Could this really happen now at any moment?

Of course I’ve known on some level - yes - we’ve got to be ready for anything. But the reality of this month, the timing, and well, all of it, started to feel like a tidal wave.

I began to question where the overwhelm was coming from - was it the birth process itself?

Sure, I have a healthy level of nervous excitement and anticipation of labor. But that wasn’t it.

Was it this whole concept of introducing a third, very important being, into my marriage? That it would not just be me and Taylor anymore?

Again, not quite it. We’ve had a ton of amazing time together and starting 2 years ago with dear old, Theo, it hasn’t been “just us” for a while.

Then, it hit me. The end of alone time. This was it. The tectonic shift that was about to happen. This sacred time that I dearly value, use, and intimately know, is about to evaporate - at least for a while.

This naming of the source of overwhelm was helpful. Specificity cuts through the tornado of confusion that the mind oft wants to stir up. Still, I felt the emotions starting to well up. I went for a walk sans hubby, sans Theo, and let the tide of tears rise. I sat against a tree in a nearby park feeling deeply grateful and excited for these impending changes, and deeply aware of the grieving for the woman I am and life I’ve become accustomed to.

These are big transitional life moments. Birth is also a rebirth for mothers. Requiring nothing short of a death of the old. And for me, those tears have been and continue to be part of the acceptance process.

Sitting against that beautiful tree, at 10:00 PM on a random Tuesday, I felt happy relief at the freeing of this previously unaddressed fear. It was a helpful and healing revelation, and quite nice to embrace the light and shadow of it all.

And after a while, I started to question things from a higher, more neutral perspective.

Alone time. What is it really? And have I really, truly had it as of late?

The answer is no. I’ve spent almost 9 months with this little being quite literally hanging around. Much of it lately with him kicking, dancing, doing yoga, discovering his surroundings, and whatever else he’s up to in there. This boy likes to move.

And I’ve actually enjoyed it immensely. Curating who and what I surround myself with. The conversations. The teachings. The sounds. The food. The environments. As though he was there absorbing it all - because he was. And is.

Then, as aforementioned, there’s our dog, Theo. The best kid warm up I could imagine. Especially working from home with him, he has totally been - at least on some level - like a child. True alone time evaporated years ago with the welcoming of the fur-baby into hearts and home.

And what about the spiritual element of it all. Are we ever really alone? I certainly believe there are all sorts of positive energies, guides, and forces that are always with us. Available to help at a moment’s notice. To offer strength, wisdom, intuitive assistance. Constantly moving through life with us.

While there is certainly a great value to times of self-scheduling and rest that are independent of anyone else’s needs but your own, I have experienced that with great gratitude. For years. And now it’s time for something a little different.

There is great wonder and excitement in change. I’m grasping the immensity of this change in a new way now.

The acceptance of this chapter of independence and perceived alone time ending is making way for a new beginning: one of overwhelming love, connection, and rebirth.

I can’t wait to see what’s on the other side.