Back in January my kids went away for a few days with their dad. I was on staycation and I was loving it. The most break I'd ever get was day and a half usually every second week. Trying to keep up with everything without any emotional and physical support was getting super taxing on me. Kids' needs, the farm, the house, animals, business, me and my healing. I was really looking forward to a few days on my own to get my head around everything. And I tell you I was not bored and the days were just floating by and every day I'd go to bed buggered. I did swim every day that week and caught up with a couple of friends, but mostly I just tried to catch up on everything here. I remember wondering towards the end of my staycation " How on earth do I manage with 3 in tow?!?!" Kids were supposed to be coming back the next day and I started panicking. I've done nowhere near to what I have planned to. Weird emotions started coming up for me. I have only just processed my father wounding and it seemed the spirit was "pushing" me to address the other. I knew from the start that there was a reason kids were away. There was a lesson in it for me and I was ready to embrace the emotions that were all of a sudden coming up. Kids were flying in the next day and I noticed getting anxious. There was a chance they'd have to quarantine. Kids dad had troubles getting their QR codes and more info on getting back to Tassie so we just had to wait. The next day my phone had no reception and the internet was out, too. In the evening at the time of their arrival I went into town to call them as I was still cut off from everything. I used free wifi as soon as they disembarked. The news was 2 weeks quarantine with their dad. I stayed on the phone with the kids for as long as the free WiFi allowed. I really really longed to hold them. Then the phone cut off where I could still hear them for a few seconds, but they couldn't hear me. I didn't get to say I loved them... The beeping sound of the phone hung up seemed extra loud and ear piercing.
I went home totally cut-off from them. I couldn't text them I loved them. I couldn't wish them good night. I couldn't wish them sweet dreams. I couldn't send them photos of Molly hogging my bed. I couldn't hold them. House was super quiet and empty. There was no distracting with Netflix, Spotify, social media, etc. It was just me and my emotions that were coming up and I had no choice, but sit with them. I started thinking about how I enjoyed my time alone. How anxious I got the day before they were supposed to come back. How I joked about having another 2 weeks to myself. Was I deep down actually hoping for it? Do I even like being a mum or would I rather have my freedom? I felt horrible even thinking about it. I felt GUILT. I knew I absolutely loved and adored them. There was no questions about that. I was questioning what does being a good mother mean to me! Am I actually maternal or am I just loving to all? Do I like being a mom? What does it mean to me? What does it mean to the kids??
When I was a little girl my two favourite games were to play being a teacher and the other being a mum. I remember my first and only baby doll had a droopy eyelid, but to me she was perfect. Just the way she was. When I played mum, I would wash my baby's clothes, nurse it, bathe it, but most of all hold it tight. Hold it close to my heart and whisper: " You're safe. I've got you. You're loved."
My first born was born 2 weeks late by emergency caesarean. When I was rushed in a lift to the operating room my midwife trying to find his heart beat, I thought I lost him that moment. When he was born, his eyelid puffy and bruised from being rushed to this world. He was perfect to me. I looked at his mop of hair. Like a lion's mane. I remembered his name: Leo (Piotr after my dad). The next day the midwife who was with me the day before came to see me. I swear I saw twinkle in her eyes. Somehow in all the commotion I missed that her name was Leonie. That morning she told me she was named after her dad Leo whom she never met. How special for her to witness the birth of my little boy.
My first few weeks with my new baby were quite horrid. Yes, the usual sleep deprivation, the exhaustion. Kids' dad was working so I didn't want to bother him. After all, we now had +1 to look after financially. My mum was visiting, but we didn't seem to agree on things. But subconsciously, it was my life long present survival tactic: extreme independence. By the 4-5 weeks I got quite ill with mastatis in my left breast. At the beginning I didn't want to tell anyone I'm unwell which is trauma in itself and another chapter to write about in my book. Towards the end I'd just sleep and mum would wake me for feeds. No, it was not the early newborn days. I had high temps for what seemed like weeks and a massive mastatis growing inside my breast. I did see a GP first who gave me antibiotics. Then a midwife "told me off" for not trying to do it the natural way and told me to get off the antibiotics. When I got really sick I went to see my GP again and demanded an ultrasound and with "it doesn't look that bad” I finally was given a referral. I had my breast drained in emergency room that day and well over 300ml pus drained. I won't go into the detail of the argument between my GP and the breast surgeon and how I was on the receiving end of it. I knew I was mishandled, but I just did not give a f#*k. I just wanted this horror to end, to get better and go home to my baby and enjoy him. I missed nearly 7 weeks of his life.
Breasts as far as energy work is nurturing. Both ability to nurture and being nurtured. I’m a cup A, but my milk came right away and I could’ve nursed triplets with my supply. A lot of breast issues, breast cancer is manifestation of over nurturing and losing one's self in the process. Not having one's emotional needs met, not feeling nurtured. My breast filled up with pus. So much toxicity towards myself stored in my subconscious. I lost most of the breast tissue in my left breast because of that incident.
After a big battle with cracked and bleeding right breast nipple, things finally settled and I managed to nurse Leo from one, right side only till Heidi was born 2 years later. I nursed Heidi on one side till Frank was born another 2 years later. By that stage my left breast seemed to heal a little and Frank was able to have a little suckle on that side, too but it was mainly one, right side. He nursed till well over 3!!
A couple of days into kids' quarantine I figured it out. I went for a swim and as I have done many times before I got into my "zone" and what I learnt that day was beyond my expectations. I asked my guides for answers. What it meant to me to be a good mum. I truly loved my kids. And the farm and the self sufficient lifestyle. I loved the safety and the sacredness of this place, my home and I needed it. It's very important to me, but I also liked my freedom. I loved being successful and having a career. Loved having time for my dreams and it's ok to want it, but deep down I felt bad about it. I felt bad about wanting a career. I'm actually not really stay at home mum. I’m a passionate and creative being, a go getter and I like being on the go, having a creative project on the go for me. I want to make a difference, to leave a legacy, but it does not mean I love my kids less. And it doesn't matter, if you stay at home or have a career, have a veggie patch, live sugar free life, have a nanny, etc. The point is, I never got a chance to work out what my truth was. What did being a good parent mean to me! Not what society wanted me to believe.
And then while swimming, in my mind's eye I saw a tatoo. An infinity symbol with 3 hearts perfectly weaved into it. To honour my babies and then... I saw number 4! Yes, it was time to acknowledge 4 babies. Three that were here with me and one I wasn't ready to be a mum to. I had a choice between quitting my uni and going back home as a single mum or staying in Australia and finishing my degree. Subconsciously, I was simply terrified to go back to the trauma…
It was a heart breaking decision and it broke me. I never really talked about it and when I tried to open up to a friend I felt stupid. I didn't want sympathy. I just needed somebody to hold space for me. I needed a safe space to process my emotions. The feeling of shame weighing heavily on me. I didn't want sympathy. I didn't believe I deserved it. The ever present self loathing cycle. Shame too much to handle. So I buried it all well down. I did what I did. It was time to not fear what others would think of me. People are people. They will judge and condemn. I punished and condemned myself for far too long. It was time to forgive myself. What's traumatic to you, your soul might not be traumatic to another and vice versa. But your feelings are valid. It's pain. Stop dismissing it. Let the pain come up to the surface. Don't numb it. Don't burry it down. Feel it. Process it and release.
My goodness the anger that came out of me. I was swimming with so much anger, fury. All the anger I pushed down was coming out. Who was I even angry with? Yes, the ancestral patterning, but mainly myself. For abandoning myself, but it was not my fault! It was what I was conditioned and taught to believe. My feelings, my pain invalidated. All the lies I was told and told myself in the process and all the ancestral and childhood trauma. It was time to forgive myself. And that moment a little prayer sounded in my head:
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.
That day all the trauma I processed so far came up to the surface. I realised I was not ready to be a mum. I never processed that wound. And no amount of babies would fill the void I felt since. My termination, the shame I felt broke me!
I realised in the pool that day I didn't feel worthy of my kids. How do I get to have these three amazing humans in my life? I got rid of one??? Then I heard my guides say: " They chose you for a reason. Because you are worthy."
I got to the end of the lane and stopped swimming. " Yes, I'm worthy and I'm ready."
As soon as I got out of the water I got an unexpected message from kids' dad. Their quarantine got cut short and they were coming home the next day and I could not wait to become a mum (again).
From my heart to yours. With love and light. Marta ✨
This story is dedicated to the love of my life.
My children.
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