Nichole Nordeman - Slow Down

SHAUNA NIEQUIST

Sometimes at a baby shower, the hosts will ask each mom to write down one piece of advice for the expectant mamaand we all write things about sleep or feeding or how desperately hard it is to deal with those onesies with snaps in the mind-altering middle of sleepless, blurry nights. But then I also write one more thing as well: whatever you do, dont do it alone.

Mothering is life altering, soul altering, identity altering. It is physical and emotional and spiritual. Its alternately breathtaking and boring, a treasure chest of all the best things in the world and a set of endless tasks, a delight and a dizzying weight to carry.

And the only way I know how to embrace motherhoodthe best and the worst of itis to spill it all out to the other mothers in my life, over the phone or across the table or in books and stories.

Nicholes beautiful song Slow Down connected with so many of us so deeply and so immediately because she says what we all want to say, and she makes us feel less alone and less crazy for feeling those things. She captured that feeling, that nothing-like-it-in-all-the-world, this-is-just-exactly-what-it-feels-like-to-be-a-mom thing, and we needed every note of it.

Because thats what helps us through: the sense that were not alone in the enormity of motherhood, the sense that were not the first or the last to feel like our hearts might actually break with love. For many of usfor me, anywayto know that were not alone in the wilds and wonders of mothering is a game changer. Its a life changer.

A band of women have walked this mothering road with methrough joy and loss and sleeplessness and fear and hospitals and stitches and sillinessand I cannot thank them enough. Nichole is one of those women, a fellow mama bear, a songwriter, and a storyteller who captured the beautiful ache of motherhood so absolutely perfectlya true friend who carries it all with me.

Through these pages, youll meet friend after friend, fellow traveler after fellow traveler. Our children are so different, our homes and traditions and paths are so different, but mothering is mothering: challenging and desperately beautiful and so much better together.

A couple of years ago, my son, Charlie, was getting ready to graduate from elementary school. His teachers and many of the fifth-grade parents at our small school were dreaming and scheming about ways to make the brief graduation ceremony meaningful. After all, we were about to bid farewell to elementary school musicals, science fairs, and pumpkin patch field trips and launch our fresh, new middle schoolers into the world of large lockers and math we could no longer help with.

I did something I never do. Never. I asked Charlies teacher if I could sing at the ceremony.

Im not kidding when I say that my own family can barely get me to start Happy Birthday in a decent key while my aunt is blowing out her candles. Ive spent the last two decades writing and recording music as a Christian artist. Ive logged a lot of miles on tour buses and planes and stood on many stages, large and small. Like anyones job, mine can be a great gift and a grind at times. When Im not performing on the road, I never volunteer to sing at anything, for any reasonvery rarely at my own church.

But I asked, gingerly, over e-mail. Would you mind if I sang at the fifth-grade graduation?

The teacher agreed to include me, and then I forgot all about it for several months. The week before the graduation ceremony, I remembered (and regretted) my offer. I was certain Charlie would be super embarrassed. I had no idea what to sing. Wind Beneath My Wings? What would I even say to the kids? What if I started bawling? What was I even thinking? The next time you feel pretty good about what a cool mom you are, try standing in front of a roomful of middle schoolers, and tell me how fantastic you feel about any part of your outfit or personality.

Mommy! hed announced. Come see! I colored all the keys black! The black keys are better!

In the end, I decided Id sing a song called Legacy that Id written and recorded a decade earlier, hoping it would encompass the spirit of go forth and make your mark on the world, young people. Charlie would just have to work out his embarrassment in therapy years later.

The night before graduation, I sat down at my keyboard to brush up on Legacy. I played through the song once or twice, and at one point during my late-night rehearsal, I glanced down at my hands and noticed black Sharpie marks on some of the keys. Id stared at those marks for so many years that my eyes had grown accustomed to the creative coloring Charlie had done when he was three years old.