There Is Always a Beginning

Last summer, I took a leap without thinking. I volunteered to contribute something to the local parenting magazine, SE Parent. It was very unlike me - I just did it. But I knew that if I thought too long, I would talk myself out of it. But, I couldn't come up with a name for the column. I had a ton of topics I thought about covering, but no name. Then, one night, as I was laying in bed with Elwood trying to get him to sleep, it came to me. And thus, Climbing Mommy Mountain was born. This is where it started.

I couldn’t come up with a title for my column. I laid in bed, wide awake in the dark, worrying about what to call my little piece of journalistic property. I wanted something that conveyed the wonder, frustration, beauty and fatigue that come with being a parent.

Out of nowhere came the idea of comparing motherhood to mountain climbing. The more I thought about what I know (and guessed) about mountain climbing, the more it made sense. Thus, Climbing Mommy Mountain was born.

When you climb a mountain, there are months of preparation to make sure you’re ready for the journey ahead. You gather a team to support you, both along side you on the trek and those back at base camp to offer guidance and advice.

There are amazing highs and heart breaking lows. Often you don’t know what the next step will bring. You operate on adrenaline while bone tired.

As you climb higher up the mountain, the challenges you face change, but you are more sure of your footing and your ability to make the right decision. All the while, you are in the midst of beauty that takes your breath away and sometimes make you weep with joy.

To me, this sounds a lot like being a mom.

I began my climb 2 ½ years ago when Elwood was born. I remember crying to my mother as she prepared to go home after spending the first week with us “ I can’t do it Mommy – I don’t know what to do!” She gently reassured me that I was doing great and we’d be fine. She also said all I need to do was call and she’d be back.

My husband and I still laugh about that first night home alone with Elwood. We were so scared and timid with him – like he was made of glass. While my husband went to change his diaper, I laid in bed, waiting to see if he would need help. His yell for me to come quickly filled me with fear. Imagine my relief to find that the emergency was simply that Elwood had pooped with enough force to splatter the wall at the end of the changing table.

We made it thru that night and I never made that call to summon my mother back. There have been many more, less dire calls, to both her and my mother-in-law, trying to decipher the perplexing behavior of my boys.

That’s right – we enjoyed the climb so much we decided to add another mountain to our range. Ten months ago, Finn came along and brought with him familiar terrain and new challenges. Now we have the joy of not only watching our children grow as individuals, but also at brothers

Exhaustion and exhilaration. Excitement and exasperation. These are some of the words that best describe my journey up the mountain – a journey that has changed my heart, my mind, and my soul. Thanks for tagging along.