I Hug a Pillow for Comfort

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Since becoming a mum, many things have changed, one being my source of comfort. I used to hunt for comfort in my husband, my family and friends, sometimes in things. But having a child suddenly shifts the balance and now I am responsible for someone else's comfort, every single minute of every single day.  

I'm not complaining, but it does take a while to get used to. Gone are the days where I could just walk out the door to get some fresh air after a fight with my husband. Gone are the days of spontaneity. Unless I want to subject my 6 month old to the fumes of a nail salon, than a babysitter, some expressed milk, and a spare moment later, I could be on my way to a much needed pedicure.

While it sounds exhausting [and it is at times], it is actually a refreshing way to live. Being one who comes from a background of self-hate, having a baby has put the icing on the freshly baked cake of healing and self-assurance. It has given me a chance to really test the new-found me, the better version of myself.

The old me, in the constant search for comfort to my ever-open wounds, was obviously rarely satisfied. Once I learnt that I had to take responsibility for my own happiness, I realised that my source of comfort had to come from none other than my own beliefs. I had finally matured emotionally enough to stop draining those around me for acceptance, love and worth. I could believe that I was valued and worthy, therefore loved.

So bringing a little life into this world was a very tender experience, and left me feeling slightly afraid of how my self-proclaimed maturity was going to hold up. After the first few weeks, I became more courageous, having survived so far... and was surprised at not only my efforts, but also a new little habit I had developed. After a night of broken sleep, Chad would take a milk-drunk baby from my arms and I would slink down under the covers, grab the pillow I had used to prop myself up to feed, and stick it between my legs and arms. I would body-hug a pillow as I drifted back to sleep, and morning would slowly sink into the day.

That is my moment of comfort, right there. Such a simple thing but it makes me feel strong again. And as each new day comes, so my confidence in being a mum continues to grow, and an assurance that I am more than capable to be a constant comfort to someone is pleasantly surprising me. I don't miss the little slip-ups, where I take the liberty to react in a childish way towards my husband, or a situation. I don't miss the small-minded thinking that would once so easily latch on and get comfortable amongst my thoughts. I don't miss being small period. 

I like being a 'big' person; a responsible, thoughtful, consistent and more than capable person. I love that everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition through the journey of motherhood. And while I no longer need to seek out pointless bouts of comfort in people or things, I am more than satisfied with those little cosy moments that find me... and I thrive on having an abundance of comfort to give to my daughter.

Love Heids Xx