THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT
Change (verb) to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone.
I am a big believer in the “butterfly effect”. The notion that the universe is so deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. The feeling of hope that things really do happen for a bigger reason and maybe we’re not just purposelessly inhabiting a rock floating in space. Brought here with a purpose, each and every one of us is crucial in the system of what we call the day to day. Under the same sky, written in the same stars, warmed by the same sun, feeling the same moon. The journey of self discovery and restlessly searching to find where exactly you fit in said system is a universal experience, yet we still insist on the notion that “no one gets it”.
Like many little girls, I always wanted to be a mommy. Baby Alive came everywhere with me for a greater part of my childhood. Swaddled in my baby blankets and placed in her stroller — to the store we went. Dinners. Just about everywhere. Always fed and with a clean diaper, too. I was a mother to that chunk of plastic, responding to her scheduled cries and big blinking eyes. But I grew up. She stayed home when I left and there was a day that I played with her for the last time before she ended up in storage because I was too cool for dolls now. I loved children but my desire to truly have them dwindled. They became bothersome and needy to me and a cry was plain annoying. I settled that maybe I was better fit to just be the cool, rich aunt to my friend’s kids. Say yes to things mom was a no on and give them back. No work, all play. Continuing to grow up and seeing the state of the world really drove my “no kids” point home. It’s different than when I was a kid and that wasn’t too long ago. I rode bikes around the neighborhood with my friends and played in the front yard for hours. There’s always been evil in the world, but it seemed to be significantly safer just that short amount of time ago. Bringing a life into a world of such danger absolutely horrified me.
The butterfly effect. One small occurrence changing the outcome of everything. Altering a timeline. Car accidents half a second away from fatality, but you didn’t leave one second earlier because you had one more person to say bye to. What if you left one minute later and missed that moment in time completely? Meeting my first friend in preschool. Living in Tucson, Arizona. Losing loved ones. Agreeing to plans instead of staying in. Every decision I’ve made has brought me to this very second in my timeline and this second, too, will cause another outcome someday. Makes you feel a lot of pressure, huh?
The fact of the matter is — I was always meant to be a mother. Those wings of the butterfly flapped long before I decided I’d be better off as the cool, rich aunt. She is needy, and I love being exactly what she needs. Her cries aren’t annoying, they’re her communication that she needs me for something — everything. The world is a scary place, but she was given to me for a reason. I’m the perfect person to teach, guide and protect her. I was made for her, her for me. And now that I’m here, in this moment, writing in bed after putting my baby down for the night, it all makes sense. It’s clearer than ever before — my purpose on this planet. Her mommy. There was a me before her, but there was never a her before me. My life began long before her, but the rhythm of her heartbeat changed the way I danced. She changed me; made my nature different from what it would be if I were just left alone. I shook off branches from my tree and replaced them with stronger ones. I’ve given until I’m breathless, and then given more. I’ve looked in the mirror of my daughter and both smiled and cried. I get it now — the love that your mom tells you you’ll never fathom until you’re in her shoes. I’m in her shoes, and they fit quite nicely. The feeling of being someone’s sun, moon and stars. A mother’s love. Growing everyday, both of us. Me mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Her in the number of rolls on her legs and onesies fitting more snug by the minute.
Change — the shifting of the familiar. She shifted everything I’ve ever thought to be true. She flapped her wings and flipped my world upside down. And I don’t ever want it to be right side up again. I’ll be a lot of things in this life. Friend. Student. Red wine drinker and dark chocolate lover. Apprentice. Leader. Chicken fingers and fries advocate. MUA. Tito’s Soda orderer. Dog whisperer. Obsessive hugger. Impulsive kisser. Ugly laugher. Clothing obsessed. Gold jewelry wearer. Taylor Swift hater. (sorry cry about it idc). Crier for a good romance movie. Overthinker. Perfectionist. I am a lot of things. I will be a lot of things. I’m not certain about much, but I can promise you a mother is my favorite thing to be.
