Amy Taylor-Kabbaz - Mama Rising: Discovering the New You Through Motherhood

For Andrina

Copyright Amy Taylor-Kabbaz 2019

Published in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au

Published in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com

Published in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk

Published in India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Cover Design by Marque Kabbaz

Typeset by Bookhouse, Sydney

Edited by Margie Tubbs

Author photo by Lauren Abi-Hanna

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private useother than for fair use as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews without prior written permission of the publisher.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice nor prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for physical fitness and good health. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-4019-5898-5
eBook ISBN: 978-1-4019-5914-2

Spiritual growth is like childbirth. You dilate, then you contract. You dilate, then you contract again.

As painful as it all feels, its the necessary rhythm for reaching the ultimate goal of total openness.

MARIANNE WILLIAMSON

I thought I could compartmentalise my life.

I could be the go-getting, ambitious, fun and free Amy, able to chase the dreams Id set as a serious teenager hoping to change the world with her work, and be the mother I wanted to be. I would lie on the couch, watching my belly move as my first daughter kicked and rolled inside me, and tell myself I could do it all. I could be the best mother and still be me. I wouldnt lose myself. I could do it all. After all, thats what our generation was promised we could do.

And then, a few months later, I looked at her. When it was time for my divine, feisty, vulnerable first child to come into this world, I gazed into two of the most pleading eyes I have ever seen, and something changed. While covered in vernix and blood, hastily wrapped in a cloth to keep warm, it was as if she was saying: Help me, mama.

Shed only been in the world for a matter of minutes. Shed needed a little help to get started when she first emerged from me, blue after being sucked out with the ventouse at the last minute, after hours of endless labour, airwaves cleared untilfinallythat first cry pierced the labour room and I knew she was alright.

But then, straight onto my chest, skin on skin, big blue pleading eyes looking straight into mine: Please. Help me. I need you.

And that was it. In that moment, I split into two: the woman I used to be, and her mother.

And for the past eleven years, since that very first moment, I have been trying to figure out what that looks like. How can I possibly not lose myself completely in her needsand then those of her sister and brotherwithout giving up on myself? How can I hold her hand and heart and soul through this overwhelming and tough world, and still hold my own too? How can I honour my deep passion for journalism, for storytelling, for changing the world for women, and still ensure I am there for every one of her steps, so she can grow up and change the world in her own way.

I didnt know. I honestly didnt know. And for many years, I didnt understand why I found it all so very, very hard.

Those little pleading blue eyes changed into strong, fierce green ones, similar to the flashing green eyes of the woman she was named afterScarlett OHara from Gone with the Wind. But her need for me did not. Still hasnt. This childthis gifthas continuously stretched and challenged me in ways I never thought possible. She has demanded more from me than I thought I had. Or thought I could give. And through it all, the same questions have consumed me, over and over again:

• How can I do this?
• How can I be there for her, and still be me?
• How can I be there for her sister and brother, without being completely swallowed up?
• How can I do this without getting to the end of the day, burnt out and yelling from sheer exhaustion?
• How can I do this properly, but not give up on all I had planned for myself too?

We think we can compartmentalise our lives: be who we used to be at work, but a mother at home. Be able to switch between work and play, and then turn on the passion at night. We see ourselves as robotic, our list of to-dos so long and loud that we walk around half-conscious; never really present, always two steps ahead in our mind or hung up on what happened yesterday.

This is what society expects of uswe are expected to raise our families and still be all that we were before as well. Its as if we are being asked to just add mother onto our rsum, but not adjust anything else on that list. In fact, were not allowed to. We have to be the wife, the worker, the sister, the daughter, the friend weve always been. In the workplace, were expected to return after a brief maternity leave and sit back in the same chair as the same person, continuing as if nothing has happened. Except that weve added perfect mother to our list too.

So I did. Like millions around the world, I just added it onto my list, and assumed things would get better. Some day. I turned into superwoman to keep up. I pushed my own needs to the bottom of the pile.

But the endless questions continued to haunt me:

• Was it okay that I didnt love it all?
• Was I a good mum if I still loved my career?
• Am I successful if I stop loving my career and choose something else?
• What happened to the equal partnership in my marriage?
• Why does it all have to be up to me?
• And after a while, an even scarier one emerged: Who am I now anyway?
• Because the hardest part of this decade-long journey through motherhood has actually been this: I lost my identity.
• So, who am I now?
• Do I still want the same dreams I set all those years ago?
• Does being the best mother to Scarlett and her two siblings mean I have to give up on those dreams?
• If not, then how the hell do I do this?

The truth is that deep down I didnt know. I didnt know who I was, or what I wanted, or how I was going to make it all work.

I just blindly pushed myself to keep going. But with every fibre of my being, I knew that Id changed.

Then one day, driving around for the millionth drop-off or pick-up or errand as a mama of three, I happened upon a podcast that changed everything. One single word brought on such an immediate reaction, I had to pull over to sob:

Matrescence. Just as adolescence describes the natural but all-encompassing transition from child to adult, and affects every part of your life, matrescence describes the natural but all-encompassing transition from woman to mother. And it affects every part of your life.

I cried the deep soulful sobs of a woman finally acknowledged.

I cried for all the years I had judged myself for not knowing who I was anymore, and for doubting my inner voice.

I cried for all the times Id pushed my feelings down, pushed on, burnt myself out, and made myself sickall in the pursuit of being the woman I used to be.