It’s my Birthday!

It’s my birthday. I’m 42.

I woke up once in the dark and early hours to the sound of the hauntingly beautiful ‘yoooooodoooo’ call of the resident loon of the lake we’re camping on. The loon call is my favourite sound in the world and it felt like the first birthday gift.

I woke again at 6, my usual rising hour, flanked in my tent on either side by my husband and daughter, feeling loved, and noticing an impressive amount of dirt caked underneath my fingernails.

I fought off a wave of anxiety (I sometimes get when on holiday, that tries to tell me that I should be somewhere else, being productive), by deciding to practice some mindfulness and gratitude. It mostly worked.

I quietly rose, dressed, and headed to my cherished waterfront kitchenette; (comprised of a folding aluminum table, a Coleman stove, and various kitchen utensil rejects; castoffs from past home upgrades), setting the kettle to boil.

I climbed up to the top of our temporary little island home and got the food bag down from the ‘bear tree’ (laughing a little to myself because it makes me feel badass to call it that).

I made my first cup of tea for the day. Herbal, before I delve in to the caffeine (consuming way too much these days - another COVID habit to work toward breaking). I left the tea to steep and summoned my 10 year old daughter to come for a dip.

Not a soul in sight, no hesitation, we walked hand in hand down to the edge of the lake, and plunged into the black chilly waters. “Yes, I feel alive!” my daughter proclaimed. Yes. I thought. This is the kind of person I want to be. I don’t ever want to hesitate when what I want is right in front of me. I too ‘felt alive’.

Out of the lake and chilly, I cherished a warm hug from my husband. “Bon Fete.” Being touched, to me, is like breathing.

My 13 year old son, yet to stir, evoked a feeling of warmth in my heart just in remembering a moment from the previous day. We had been expecting thunderstorms all day, but instead, were gifted hours of sunshine and warm breezes. He and I took advantage by going on a rock face caving adventure together in our kayaks. As we paddled alongside one another, we watched the storm clouds passing across the far side of the lake and felt the distant thunder lowly rumble our insides.

As I often do, I broke out into song - my own rendition of Jimmy Cliff’s “I Can See Clearly Now the Rain Is Gone”. My kids have learned to tolerate the embarrassment of my spontaneous singing - coming to accept I’ll never change. But this time, my son surprised me. He said, “I like the way your face looks when you sing. It’… it looks,.. nice.” That was the best “I love you” I think I’ve ever heard.

I’m 42 today. Do I have regrets? Not exactly.

I think I’m learning that knowing I’d do things differently had I known more, isn’t the same as regret. I’m smarter now. I have more confidence, more patience. If I were to do it again, I’d have been more gentle and patient with my kids. I’d have trusted them more, and controlled them less.

But come to think of it, that’s exactly what I’m doing now, so maybe that’s enough.

More importantly, it’s what I’m doing for me now. Being more gentle and patient with myself, trusting myself more, and having to control everything less.

I want more of this in my own life, but also for Mothers everywhere.

Thinking and reflecting this morning feels like a renewal of my dedication to this purpose: to continue to press on, helping high level self-pressure women find personal balance in Motherhood. To feel that ‘alive’ feeling.

I’m reminded of the words of the incredible Singer/Song-Writer and cancer warrior, Nightbirde when she asked: “Don’t you want to find out what happens if you don’t give up?”

I am a cycle-breaker, a supporter, an advocate. For my kids, for you, and future generations of girls and boys who will hopefully grow up knowing how to value their whole selves, and each other.

As for myself?… I won’t give up.

With my whole heart and right beside you,

Alison