It’s not nearly so romantic as it sounds: that I have the fawning, impassioned love of two young men. My love story involves a lot of tears, calamities, aches, pains, nightmares, heartaches and disappointments. And bodily fluids of the entirely undesirable sort.
Not your typical love story, that’s for certain. At the same time, it is infinitely more epic. Having two little boys has rocked my world in every possible way. My life and perspective have been turned upside down and inside out.
The bond is so strange and so strong precisely because they are so alien to me. I don't think I'd feel the same way about a daughter. It would be equal, but different; we would be, on a very basic level, cut from the same cloth. But to have created two such creatures: another gender, a different fundamental essence, out of the stuff of my own being - it is...transcendent.
I believe I finally understand the Jungian concept of Anima/Animus: the female/male archetypes that live inside all of us - like two halves of our soul. Giving birth to these two little men is like seeing the male half of my soul brought out into the world. Times two. It’s exhilarating, and not a little terrifying.
Somewhere on the other side of the bed is the third one. The big one. The one that started it all. But like an all-powerful father-creator power-source, he’s distant. Behind the scenes. He’s brought his creations into the world, and now their fates are their own.
They’re not heroes yet. Mama’s nurturing is still needed. The world can be a cold and scary place. But Mama is here. Mama is warmth. Mama is strength. Mama is love.
I never thought that I could feel like I am being devoured and created at the same time. Whatever is left of me by the time they are done will be both less and more than what I was. I can’t wait to look in the mirror and find out what looks back. Maiden, Mother, Crone? I believe it will be all three at once; past, present, and future. I am transformed. I am split apart and put back together, finally complete.