This year, my girls will turn three. Three... The old adage that 'time flies' is never so profound as it is after having children. Now my life is measured by my children - it's almost like starting life over again. As if the day they were born truly was the first day of the rest of my life. My new life, that has transformed me into a mother, and my husband and I into a family. Our home into a playhouse, my car into a storage unit and my body into a jungle gym.
I've been trying to determine what this blog represents for me. Not only am I indulging my need to write, and chronicling the emotions and realizations through my path out of depression and into motherhood, but most of all, I am putting into words these epiphanies that now blindside me on a regular basis.
I feel as though I'm re-living my childhood through the eyes of my parents and all the people that had a hand in raising me and molded me into the person I am today. It overwhelms me with gratitude because I can now begin to comprehend the time and energy that goes into just one child. I arrived into adulthood a self-confident, balanced, rational woman with a realistic perception of the world around me and I am just now discovering the value of those traits; they don't come without devoted parents and other influential people that invested their time and energy into me.
Perhaps it is my own version of therapy. If I'm starting my life over, then what better reason to scour my brain clean? I owe it to my children to clear out the cobwebs and organize the fragments of memories into useful parental tools.