(From theory to the love that "rewrites" everything)
I am writing these lines with my dear goddaughter in mind, who is now carrying her first miracle, but also with all new and future mothers who are stepping with emotion into this new stage. We all know, in theory, that priorities change. However, when theory becomes practice, we discover that the principles we once boasted about become very vulnerable or turn 180 degrees.
The so-called child-rearing "leave" is a leave in name only. We are, however, blessed that in Romania we have these two years, a precious time during which that profound bond ‒ physical, psychological, and emotional ‒ is woven, becoming the cornerstone of the child's self-confidence. During this period, the clock remains absolutely useless, and nights begin to blend with days at a dizzying pace.
There's also a mystery I haven't deciphered yet: a baby's cry seems to have a frequency picked up exclusively by the mother's ear (he-he!). In this chaos of diapers and sleeplessness, a well-trained sense of humor is the lifeline that helps us overcome absurd situations without losing our cool.
After childbirth, a mother's heart is a battlefield: you're flooded with oxytocin, the "love hormone," but also with other less friendly hormones, physical pain, and, let's be honest, a lot of nerves. In those moments, you need more than medical advice. You need a "circle of safety" preferably made up of your husband, spiritual father, and a few dear people who can offer a kind word. And, yes, let's not beat around the bush, a message on WhatsApp at two in the morning, when you feel like you're the only one awake on the planet (friends know why!).
A vital piece of advice: don't forget about yourself. Taking a minimum amount of personal time for reflection is not selfishness, but a vital biological condition. I didn't always succeed, but I tried to read at least a few pages to relax. Every mother needs to find her own mechanism for inner recalibration. For me, Holy Communion and weekly (or even more frequent) participation in the Holy Liturgy offered me resources I never knew lay within me.
Children have a special power: they force us to live in the present. They challenge us to rediscover simple joys in small things ‒ a leaf, a coo, a ray of sunshine, or simply life itself. God arranged this world so that through birth, we too are renewed. Up until about 6-7 years old, children retain a pure innocence. We often hear them speaking with angels or with God with a naturalness that takes our breath away; I am convinced they truly see them. All these moments remind us, the "complicated" adults, of the simplicity in which we should live and give us such a necessary "restart."
Here I am at the end of this virtual letter, packed with... unrequested advice. My dear, arm yourself with patience and much love. Motherhood is amazing, a path full of joys, but also numerous challenges; yet, above all, it is the blessing that rewrites our hearts forever. For the better.
A child comes into our lives not just to be cared for, but to teach us to look at our lives more carefully. More than that, they re-teach us to relate to ourselves as children of our Heavenly Father. Sleepless nights leave behind not (just) fatigue, but the light that a "little piece of human" brings into the darkness of our worries. And... when you can't go on anymore, don't forget you're not alone. Ask for help and everything will be alright again!
Andreea Macra
Photography by Simona Andrușcă