Mission Statement

We are a people who tell stories in one form or another.
After all isn't blogging just another way to gather around and tell those stories?

Motherhood is Painless is about finding the humor in the every day. In finding the happiness in those stories that we tell. What would happen if we *all* learned to laugh at ourselves? Maybe then the dark corners would recede a bit and we would all rejoice at the love we find there.

Thursday, November 14, 2013


You don't realize it at first.

You can't.

It's just not the way your brain works any more.

But there you are, walking through the streets of your neighborhood. Walking to pick up your kid at school, and you notice the trees - dappled in golden sunlight, shining through the autumn leaves. Something triggers a thought, and another, and next thing you know, you're crossing 79th Street, wiping away tears and hoping you can hold it together long enough to get both kids.

It's everything - the afternoon sun arcing across the sky, the cold wind against your cheeks. Catching the sunset as it bounces off the windows of the apartment across the street. It's smelling dinner smells as you walk home from the park, tired children asking about dinner.

The dark is coming.

It's sneaking in. Noticing that there's not time to go to the park after homework time, because it will be too dark. It's realizing the cold you feel in the morning isn't just physical - but lives someplace in your head. December can be so cheery, bright lights, candles and togetherness. January too, when winter is still fresh and new like the morning after a blizzard. But February is a dark master. Cold and dim and eternal, despite being the shortest month of the year.

Even now, in the middle of November, I feel the teeth of winter, nipping at my heels. I prepare - medications, therapies, and that bright, bright light. Hoping to force the demons to heel again.


Andrea B. said...

This is so beautiful. Powerful. Quite possibly the most intensely moving piece I have read in a while. Thank you, for sharing. I hear you. I feel you. So very much. xo

The Steady Table said...

I feel you. Get your face in the sun while you can.

Gail Montyberger said...

This really moved me. Something about this time of year - it's intense on all the senses, isn't it? I felt something similar on Saturday, out of nowhere all choked up, trapped in public and in broad daylight, so I couldn't quite release it all. For a moment I thought it might all spill out of me.

Anna (Green Talk) said...

Beautifully written. I hate when it starts to get darker earlier.

Christy@SweetandSavoring said...

I can identify with this all too well. You've expressed what the onset of seasonal affective disorder feels like so well- especially that preparation we attempt, which still seems so futile. So happy that this winter is over and we can look forward to spring!