Mother of Gray
This blog was born at three in the morning while I sat eating a bowl of Pronutro balanced on my tummy waiting for activity from my three year old's bedroom because sleep only ever arrives five minutes before your child wakes up.
I am 35 weeks pregnant. The insomnia is bad. And this time I know, sort of, what to expect.
I've called this blog 'Ma Wa Gray' because I think the Zulu culture is on to something - the moment you have your first child your name becomes Ma Wa (in my case) Gray. Mother of Gray.
Ones entire identity shifts to belonging to someone else. Someone small, foreign and terrifyingly wonderful. Someone who literally will be the last thing on both you and your partner's lips every single night. Every single night. Forever.
And so this is a blog devoted to motherhood, to finding an identity that isn't always necessarily linked to motherhood and to saying the things I want to say on Facebook but can't because of brain dead anti-vaxxers and people who no longer live in South Africa but still have the strongest and most racist opinions on social media.
If my opinions offend you you chose to read this blog so it's all on you. I can't promise I'll write regularly because I'm about to drape myself in muslins, yellow poo and breast pads but I'm hoping this will be a vestige for me when I'm eating Pronutro off my stomach at three in the morning, waiting for one of my sprogs to wake up.
I am 35 weeks pregnant. The insomnia is bad. And this time I know, sort of, what to expect.
I've called this blog 'Ma Wa Gray' because I think the Zulu culture is on to something - the moment you have your first child your name becomes Ma Wa (in my case) Gray. Mother of Gray.
Ones entire identity shifts to belonging to someone else. Someone small, foreign and terrifyingly wonderful. Someone who literally will be the last thing on both you and your partner's lips every single night. Every single night. Forever.
And so this is a blog devoted to motherhood, to finding an identity that isn't always necessarily linked to motherhood and to saying the things I want to say on Facebook but can't because of brain dead anti-vaxxers and people who no longer live in South Africa but still have the strongest and most racist opinions on social media.
If my opinions offend you you chose to read this blog so it's all on you. I can't promise I'll write regularly because I'm about to drape myself in muslins, yellow poo and breast pads but I'm hoping this will be a vestige for me when I'm eating Pronutro off my stomach at three in the morning, waiting for one of my sprogs to wake up.
Comments
Post a Comment