Are we the kitten or the lion?
Sometimes those of us taking the journey, on which our bodies have given us no choice but to take, become masters of appearing the lion. We strut through our days, hold our heads high, smile and make friendly conversation about the weather and our co-workers children. When we receive Christmas cards plastered with the faces of every child, of every friend (sometimes not even remembering who the parent is attached to this child), we say the obligatory things about how cute they are and how much they’ve grown. When our sisters and sisters-in-law come over discussing the woes of motherhood, the un-comfortableness of pregnancy, or the current follies of their little ones, we listen, we comfort them, and we shake our mane’s, plaster on a smile, and roar like the lion we are in laughter at their children’s antics. Yes, we become good at playing the role of the lion.
The face of the lion greets the world, perhaps comforting them so as to avoid the un-comfortableness of the unspoken “white elephant” in the room. The dreaded “F” word as I call it. No, it’s not the four letter one our mother’s would wash our mouths out for using, it’s one far worse, one we can’t stand to hear–FERTILITY. There, I said it.
We are the lion, and we are also the kitten. We are women with complexities other women who have not walked this path cannot begin to understand. It is not their fault, it is not for a lack of loving us, and it just is.
Yet every so often we must gift ourselves with time to be a kitten. We must risk being real. We must smile, breath, and go slowly into the softest parts of ourselves to let those who love us truly see what’s underneith the courageous front of the lion.