Mother Code
There is something so subtle and gentle about the knowing smiles I receive from other mothers when I share with them, that my baby just turned 18. Their whole essence shifts, their eyes swell with emotion, and I can feel the love that they are emanating, vibrate through their words of encouragement and support.
It’s like a secret language between moms, a secret code. It’s an inner knowing that we all share and relate to, because only we know what it has taken these last few years to mother our children into adulthood through these Apocalyptic times.
What it took to coordinate for their care, safety, and education through Covid. What it has taken to keep their souls innocent and intact through genocides, ICE raids, fires, etc.
The work we have had to do to tend to ourselves, to be well enough, to get out of bed, and give it our best to show up for them every day. To provide for them, to raise them gently and consciously, because we’ve been so dedicated to break generational curses, and raise children with healthy nervous systems.
So when I share with them that my son is 18 now, and they give me that knowing look and smile, I know that they see me. Like, Truly see me, all of me, The whole story. They may not know the details, but they know we’ve all shared similar struggles and challenges, and they know just how important and sacred it is to have gotten our children to this milestone. The work we have poured into this next generation of voters and earth keepers.
They know the fears and emotions that come up, as our children enter into adulthood during such uncertain times. Because as they prepare to graduate high school, and figure out their journeys and paths, they will spend more time away form us, out of our protective reach. They know the walk of Faith Motherhood requires, even more so now. They know the initiation, I am entering, as I learn to release my children from my protective arms, and trust and know that there is strength in my prayers, and that my words can cast protective spells around them.