It starts when I don’t get my period. Like a boat on a tumultuous sea, the waves now settle, and my little boat now tethered, bobs dreamily in a gentle breeze. A blessed reprieve.
I am calmer, more introspective. I contemplate more, think before I speak, watching my body expand.
With no cycles to mark the time, no ebb and flow, I see the days stretch before me in a line as I keep dreaming and growing.
I feel beautiful.
Then the placenta is birthed and my friend prolactin arrives, and now I am ruled by the anticipation of a baby’s cry.
Oxytocin, the hormone that washes you in peace so that the little one may feed.
I gaze into eyes that hold more magic than the stars.
With babe carried on my chest, I pass unseen amongst men.
That too, a reprieve of sorts.
And all this to last, until my baby moves forward, they stumble and crawl.
Only then will I feel the elements in my womb begin to stir again. And I move into my next incarnation.
Farewell to the motherhood pause.
