I have a confession. I’m not quite a mum… yet. It’s 3:49am, and today is my due date for our first child, who is quietly napping inside me. She is the beginning.
Like most females at full term, I have all the classic symptoms of a condition called motherhood. So far, my progress to this point has been smooth sailing. A transformation is on the horizon. I’m anxious, achy, and have some insomnia because my brain won’t quite shut off. I’m waiting for it to make the switch from my higher-functioning, reasoning brain, which is concerning itself with logic and the statistical probabilities of birthing a child within the next week or two (hopefully not longer), to my more primitive brain: This is the brain that comes out after dusk, leading me to deep breathing and stretching on our living room floor. It’s the brain that savors the nighttime sounds of the birds and locusts, listening for the wind in the trees and peering through the moonlight shadows. This is the brain that I know will lead me through labor, birthing our daughter into the light, beginning her independent journey on this blue sphere of stardust.
I have titled this blog “Humanist Mum” because my writings here will come from the parts of my identity that relate to my life philosophy of humanism – love and compassion for fellow humans – and to my new role as the mother of another small human. And so it begins.