I had been avoiding my son unconsciously

A journey into deep intimacy connection rather than blind mothering

Kat River

Jun 21, 2023

I remember the first time I realised I was unconsciously avoiding my son.

I say unconsciously because I’m very aware of all the conscious times I’d avoid him.

When I need a moment of silence, a shower alone, 10 minutes to sit in the sun.

I won’t go as far as to claim any of this is self love time. More just nutrients needed to be a mama. The Bare minimum.

I know there are times where I’m very intentionally asking for space from my son, It’s less FROM him and more so asking for space FOR myself, In order to close the gap between my self and myself.

But the first time I ever noticed I was unconsciously avoiding him, avoiding the intimacy of being connected to him,

Would have been when he was just two weeks old.

I was sitting out on the veranda overlooking the sun streaming in through the trees onto us, warming my legs on a late may morning in 2020.

He was wrapped in the sweetest knitted blanket, the tiniest nose, biggest blue eyes.

It was a dream moment. The birds singing, silence everywhere else. Just him and I. The moment felt zoomed in, but also so huge energetically.

Like I was landing in my body after birth and truly taking him in.

Feeling my love for him.

Right as our eyes had locked for a 30 seconds or so, I’m not sure, it felt like a long time,

My brain felt like it tripped for a moment and I reached for my phone to get a photo of him, he looked like an angel.

I only brought my phone half way up before I caught myself and realised, that I was about to avoid the intimacy of this moment with him, and take the photo.

Many of you know I’m a big advocate of “take the damn photo” because these years are so fleeting.

But when a moment is magic enough like this and is calling you forward into it,
It can also be somewhat overwhelming on the nervous system.
I had dreamt of these moments with my future son for years.
And now it had arrived, I was in it, and I was about to voluntarily exit my own dream.

I put my phone down and relaxed into my boy. Tears streamed down my face as I just let the love break my heart again, open me up, and bond us.

A moment I won’t ever forget.

Since then, there have been a handful of times over the last three years where I have felt that level of intensity. Honestly I thought It would be more,

But the reality for me has been that I get so wrapped up in ALL of life, that even though I feel very attuned to detail and beauty, there is a resistance to fully let go into a moment with Rafi.

Sometimes it’s simply because I’m so tired, or tender, or I have many other things on my mind.

Sometimes it’s because my brain is focused on keeping him safe and loved and fed and well rested,

That in the moments he is happy to solo play, I let him go, grateful for a moment of breathing room.

Or many times we’ve had beautiful experiences together, which I have absolutely enjoyed, but the focus has been on creating a core memory for HIM, rather than for ME or for US.

Though every time I stop the pushback, I stop sitting in how hard a moment feels, or how tired I am, or how consumed by motherhood I feel, or what work I need to do, or things to organise,
I sink into it,
My body takes me quickly as though It’s been just waiting for the green light.
Quickly, as though I weigh the weight of the world, and I sink through the jelly of the moment into another dimension where it’s just us.
And honestly, in the past it’s felt overwhelming in an uncomfortable way, in a - I need to stretch into this love, this presence, I need to stretch into feeling peace rather than low grade anxiety or business.
Though these days, it’s like quenching a thirst. A fulfilment I honestly have never experienced every anywhere before.
It’s the food for the soul that cannot be replicated anywhere other than with our children as a mother.

If we are willing to travel there.

Yesterday, I had had a big day.

Realistically Raf had been Raf, Big energy, zooming around. All completely normal for him.

Though for me, I felt tender. Maybe it’s third trimester, hormones and sleepiness,

But my capacity to feel at peace with him being himself all day felt harder. Like I had to work for it.

We had some friends come over in the morning with their kids, and the kids actually played beautifully together until nap time began to approach.

Theres something beautiful about being in the chaos with other mamas….. a recognition of sorts.

It was a beautiful morning though I felt like I couldn’t drop into conversation fully incase Raf got funny about his room/ toys being common ground.

He was actually pretty fine but it was residual anxiety in me from a good 8 months ago where he would bite or hit other kids in those scenarios.

So even though he’s moved on from those developmental changes and is a lot more socially aware… I still can hold that in my body around others and it can stop me from fully drop in to a moment with other mamas.

Once everyone left, My body crashed, and Raf was in no way about to have a sleep.

We made some play dough so that I could have a 10 minute scroll (Conscious avoiding of connection due to exhaustion) - Not that he was that concerned. Happy making his “Playdough poo”.

He had some lunch,

I forgot to eat,

Tul got home from a work morning and suggested we bail on our “no screen time most of the time” and give him a few episodes of Paddington bear so we could power nap in bed.

I welcomed the Idea with open arms, Knowing the screen time repercussions were a future Kat issue.

Raf loved it, laying on his tummy, propping himself up on his elbows, kicking his legs in the air. Tul and I were happy, spooning in bed, dropping into an oddly specific 12 minute nap that Tul had set on his timer haha.

Gotta take these moments when they are available.

Tul had to get back into some work, though I had used that time as an emotional reset. I felt so tender, though not touched out. As though my capacity had grown, though I still wanted a little cry.

Tul left,

I stopped paddington bear,

And Rafi commenced his 6 minutes of meltdown.

So upset that he couldn’t remain in his happy place,

That the last episode had finished,

And that he didn’t know what was happening next.

I rocked him while he cried,

With empathy in my heart rather than “Checking out and holding space but not actually holding space because of being checked out”

I was “with him” in his feelings, and then once he completed his process,

We went outside and gave our chickens some watermelon.

I pulled the picnic rug out into the sunshine,

On the grass,

And laid down while he ate a snack.

Then I had a thought,

Each night he had been trying to tell me about all of his dreams (And by dreams I mean his toddler life dreams of collecting big vehicles with lots of buttons from the big K shop… which many don’t exist there but he is convinced they do).

This sort of obsession means normally right as we are supposed to be going to bed he begins talking about these dreams on turbo energy, so fast that sometimes I can’t pick up what he’s saying. He goes and goes and I honestly cannot get a moment to interrupt him and tell I’m it’s actually time for bed. Even when I do interrupt him he simply keeps talking and ignores me completely. I actually find it endearing but also super inconvenient in the dark, at 8.30pm when he and I really need to be heading to sleep.

I recognised though that he’s dying to connect with me over his little passions, which to him, are huge.

They take up a lot of his thinking time.

And truthfully, he’s not that different from me when I get obsessive over homes and design or an idea.

I’m basically Rafi, but to Tully, with word zoomies right before bed. So I can relate to Raf in his passion.

Though that time isn’t ideal.

So as we are laying on the picnic rug, in the 4pm afternoon golden sun, that’s getting lower in the winter time,

I invite him to lay beside me, and ask if he would like to tell me ALL about his dreams because right now is a really great time and I’d love to hear them.

His face lit up immediately and he’s never responded so quickly to an invitation (Little projector go!)

He lays on my arm and I hold my cardigan over our heads so I can see him in the light.

The gold streams through the little holes in the material.

We lay there, 20 cm between our faces,

His eyes lock onto mine, like they did when he was just 2 weeks old.

The biggest blue, with light reflecting all the depth and his lashes glistening.

As he talks, I allow myself to fully relax into him.

Take him in.

I WANT to listen to every single word he has to say

I WANT to watch how his lips move, and his nose scrunches up taking all the sprinkles of brown freckles with it, when he says something he thinks is funny.

I WANT to feel his passion, and love, and excitement for something important to him.

I want to give my 3 year old son, the space to reveal himself to me. To feel like his words are important and that mama has the time and energy to listen and truly listen. Not just hear the words but to feel HIM underneath them.

Honestly it’s making me have a lump in my throat right now just writing about it.

I watched him,

I listened.

I sank into the moment,

Where time slowed down.

Every other thought left me and I was just there with him,

As his warm little hands cupped my face, and we looked at each other as he explained what colour each vehicle was…

“Okay, so, my first dream is a biiiggg digger”

Oh what colour is it baby?

“It’s red, all my dreams are red, and it has twenty four, no, twenty five buttons.”

Oh, what does each button do Raf?

“The first one makes it go, the second one makes it stop, one makes it go backwards, one makes it beep…… continued”

Wow Raf that digger sounds SO amazing. What’s the next one?”

“Okay, so, the next one is a jetski, but it has wheels, so it can go on the sand AND in the water. And It can splash people and go super fast….”

The light from the sun couldn’t compare to the light naturally in his eyes as he felt me receive him.

And no splash from his dream jetski could compare to the tears streaming down my face, and the snot beginning to pool in my nose.

I could physically feel my heart filling with a golden light

And after roughly half an hour of non stop dream talk - his manifestations coming to life because of course now I must find all of these dreams for him haha,

He moved onto my lap and sat with me, cupping my face, as my second son in my womb began kicking his brother and Rafi’s giggle echoed through my being.

We went inside, and I felt full. Like my body had been flooded with an IV infusion of love.

A fulfilment that isn’t the same from receiving anything else other than our children as a mother.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the beauty of that moment.

The intimacy. The love.

It was like I fell into a honeymoon phase after a stunning first date.
The euphoria of feeling connected.

It moved me,

And It made me want to have more of it.

And I felt grateful that even though I was tired and tender and thought I needed space,

What I actually needed was to feel him again.

To disconnect from the habit of supervising,

To connect to the bigness of feeling even when it feels uncomfortable.

And to connect to the stunning relationship I get to have with this little human.

Connect to his perfection.

Though consciously I know this relationship is there, to live, embodied in it, is an entirely different experience.

Our children are honestly awe inspiring.
Their innocence is pure.

Their excitement real,

Hearts big.

We learn a lot when we allow them to teach us

To reveal to us

Rather than thinking that’s only our job.

I had been avoiding my son unconsciously

A journey into deep intimacy connection rather than blind mothering

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