Rainbows or Hurricanes? Maybe, Both...

“To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.” -Maya Angelou

 I sometimes imagine the ways in which my four children might describe me posthumously… or even now, for that matter.  If I get anywhere close to this answer, I would be incredibly satisfied.

 It all happened in less than one minute.  Matt and I were gazing upon our newly birthed oldest daughter, as she slept in her bassinette in the hospital nursery.  “Wait.” I said, my heartrate rising.  “Is that a formula bottle on her cart?!”  The raging red overtook my face. “She is not supposed to have any formula!” I raged to Matt… “I’m going to have to go tell the nurse! They better NOT have given her any formula”, I said with smoke bellowing out of my ears…  I marched my blazing self over to the nurse… who kindly pointed out that I was not looking at the correct baby.  Brooke was a few bassinettes over; sleeping soundly; no formula bottle on her cart.  I had been a mother less than 24 hours, and already I felt this surge of emotions more powerful than anything I had previously witnessed.  The red slowly faded back to natural, and my rapid-fire heartbeat finally returned to normal.* 

 Let’s go back to Maya Angelou’s quote, and dissect it a bit.

 “…a hurricane in its perfect power…”

 This draws to mind, for me, an image of strength and determination.  Are hurricanes determined?  I bet anything along its path would say so. Was I determined that my baby would NOT have formula? Indeed.  If those raging emotions weren’t the fury of a hurricane, I don’t know what is.  (Even if it was… completely my error.)  A mother can, most definitely, be an embodied hurricane.  Not only in anger, also in intentionality, love, anxiety, disappointment, excitement, pride or worry.  Also, lest we forget the word “perfect” in the quote, I want to suggest that this word might be a nod to a “mother’s intuition”.  I am a believer in gut-feelings. They tell us something. Perhaps that mother’s intuition is the eye of the hurricane—the driving force.

 “…the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.”

 This next illustration of Angelou’s mother is of the dynamic, colorful nature of a rainbow.  This feels more tender. More gentle. Offering grace, where needed. I, myself, am a rainbow-seeker.  If the conditions outside seem that they might be conducive to producing a rainbow, I put my kids on “rainbow watch”, to help me survey the sky as I drive.  My phone is full of pictures of rainbows.  Double rainbows. Vibrant rainbows. Nearly-vanished rainbows. Each one unique.  Each rainbow having its own tone and quality.  I also can’t leave out the movement within this illustration. The rise and fall. Of our emotions? Our thoughts? Our actions? Possibly.

 What if the climb and fall of the rainbow is this journey of motherhood? Coupled with the fierce tenacity of a hurricane.  That contrast feels good to me. I think that sums it up pretty well. It encompasses the ebb and flow of life. Not all days are hurricanes. Not all days are rainbows. But all days in this motherhood journey are somewhere within that range.

 What do you think of Maya Angelou’s description of her mother?  The hurricane/rainbow illustration?

*(Let’s save the “breast is best” conversation for another time.  I have breastfed, exclusively pumped, supplemented with formula, and used solely formula. Each was the best decision for that particular child and myself, at that particular time in my life.  I’m sure you made the best decision for your situation as well.)

 Photo credit: @plasticmind