In The Way They Heal Me, Ann MacKenzie guides you back to your spiritual source while showing you it is at the heart of being a mother. Through her poetry and prose, she allows you to see the beauty that can be missed in the everyday "little things" about motherhood. Her insight about her children and husband may inspire you to connect with the core of your own family. She takes you on a journey, one that encourages you to find an opening to your soul. Through her inspirational writing, you can find hope, celebration, forgiveness, and love. MacKenzie shows mothers everywhere how to find their sacred footing in a world that can be hectic and chaotic by staying grounded through the everyday family moments.

The Way They Heal Me

By Ann MacKenzie

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2012 Ann MacKenzie
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-5539-3

Contents

Acknowledgments.............................ixIntroduction................................1A Surrender.................................3The Second Time Around......................4A Mystery...................................7Responsibility..............................8Beginning Anew..............................9The Embarrassment...........................10Three Spinning Tops.........................12Being Prepared..............................13To Honor....................................16To Live.....................................18Cherished Time..............................20A Little Acceptance.........................22The Wheat Weaving...........................24Nightly Feeding.............................26One Year Old................................27Nightly Ritual..............................28Magic Christmas Tree........................29Participating with Life.....................30Just a Mother...............................32A Mother's Gift.............................34Midnight Passion............................35A Mother's Day Out..........................36Working Mother..............................40The Spanking................................42Wonder......................................44The Brown Barbie............................45The Promise.................................47Their Breath................................48The Bubble..................................49Letting Go..................................50Life........................................52The Healing.................................53About the Author............................57

Chapter One

    A Surrender

    And they came to me
    two babies
    two daughters
    two souls.

    They chose me.
    I chose them.
    Or maybe God chose us—

    to learn, to grow,
    to become, to love.

    And they are
    so different
    so incredible
    so challenging
    so beautiful.

    And they came to me
    like a magnificent present.
    And I said,
    "Yes, oh yes."

The Second Time Around

With my second child, I requested a hospital room to myself. With my first child, I was unaware of what to expect. I wanted my second child to have a quiet entry. And it was. For three days I stayed in the hospital, with only slight disturbances from the nurses. I had very few visitors, except for the nightly social call from my husband and three-year-old daughter.

It was a sacred event for me, a time when I would enter motherhood again, but this time with more awareness. I knew clearly how this newborn baby would infiltrate my current existence and cause complete relinquishment. I also knew that there would be little time to take a shower, eat, or sleep. Consequently, my needs had to be put on hold, for at least a short period, so I could focus on this new life and the life of my older daughter, who had just become a big sister.

With my first child, I had fought what was required of me. I desperately hung on to parts of myself that I thought I could never regain again. I can remember when I first started staying home with her; I had visions of going back to work—at least on a part-time basis. I missed the little things about working: talking to adults with no interruptions, the quiet office atmosphere, and eating a lunch prepared by someone else. Mostly, though, I missed the feeling of completion, personal power, and respect I received when finishing an important task.

Gradually, I started to give myself over to my daughter, until I found myself completely immersed in mothering her. What was most interesting about this process of relinquishment is that I didn't feel I had "lost" myself. Quite the contrary, I was beginning to blossom. This change was not something that people could immediately recognize—like a completed task. There was a difference about me. I let go of a career (one I had surrendered myself to completely prior to motherhood) and was forced to see what was left. It was a struggle at first, but I found myself looking beyond accomplishment and started to like what was left. Stepping away from a job forced me to mature and develop a depth to my personality that just wasn't there before. I had to ask myself, Who am I? I started to realize that if my thoughts were centered on accomplishment and work, I had narrowed my being. I was so much more than just a wife, a mother, and a teacher. And as a result, my thoughts and energy opened to those around me.

In a way, my first child prepared me for my second birthing experience. I took on a feeling of complete acceptance while quietly reveling in the honor of being a mother again. This time, I did what I wish I had had the awareness to do with my first child. While holding my newborn baby, I said a simple prayer asking for guidance on the most important job of my lifetime, a task that seemed to me too overwhelming for parents to do alone. Gently kissing her forehead while wiping tears from her baby-fine brown hair strands, I surrendered myself completely to her, to her sister, and to myself. And in the silence of the hospital walls, I felt a quiet peace rush over me.

    A Mystery

    Even though I write poetry
    I am not a poet.

    Even though I am married
    I am not a wife.

    Even though I have children
    I am not a mother.

    Even though I teach school
    I am not a teacher.

    And when I am forced
    to let go of my protective veils
    I see
    that I am

    nothing but everything
    connected and continuous
    endless and sentient.

    I am eternally becoming
    I am a mystery
    a mystery so profound
    that I cannot begin
    to fathom the possibilities
    of what
    I am.

Responsibility

I remember the wave of responsibility that washed over me during the birth of my first child. It scared me. I had questions with no answers, and my thoughts got very dark. How can I protect and take care of this beautiful being throughout her lifetime? Am I really prepared? How can I raise her in such a harsh world—a world that is not always safe? Am I capable of protecting her from deceit and hate? How, with my own human frailties, can I raise this child without seriously wounding her? Am I good enough to mother this beautiful spirit?

Three years went by, and I found myself ready to give birth to a second child. I thought that maybe this overwhelming sense of responsibility would lessen...