Automne, hiver, printemps, été... automne. Automne, une nouvelle saison en Finlande, le début d'une nouvelle vie à trois. Il peut paraître étrange d'accepter sa propre maternité au bout d'un an. Et pourtant, je crois que je peux l'affirmer: alors que nous nous apprêtons à célébrer le premier anniversaire de petit homme, j'ai l'impression, enfin, d'épouser aujourd'hui l'identité de maman, cette identité qui est un peu restée cotonneuse pendant près de douze mois, quand je cherchais mes marques, que je tentais de répondre aux attentes de petit bonhomme sans être sûre de moi, à tâtons, sans être fière à 100% du résultat. Et je peux l'affirmer aujourd'hui, avec douze mois de ce décalage qui m'a fait vivre un an dans un état atemporel et dans un ailleurs mystérieux, on peut avoir la fibre maternelle - ou parentale - on ne naît pas parent, on le devient, jour après jour, en improvisant toujours un peu, en grandissant en même temps que l'être que l'on a fait naître.
Je prends à nouveau la plume sur ce blog pour évoquer cet étrange état des lieux, état des faits, qui fait que la Finlande, premier univers de vie et de découverte de mon fils, est aussi au fil des saisons devenue mon nouvel univers d'aventures et d'explorations. En changeant de pays à l'orée d'une naissance, je me suis aussi en quelque sorte créée une nouvelle vie -littéralement - et cette expression désormais n'est plus une simple image de langage. A présent que petit homme fait ses premiers pas de grand, je suis aussi en train de sortir d'un rêve d'un an, où notre vie à deux nous a amené à nous connaître et à mieux nous connaître nous-mêmes, bien loin des bruits de la ville, des halos de l'autre "vraie vie", faite d'obligations et de plaisirs adultes, de rencontres furtives et de sourires parfois contraints.
Ce billet était à l'origine un "j'ai testé pour vous" où je vous aurais parlé de notre nouveau cours d'éveil musical, muskari, auquel nous prenons part avec joie chaque semaine. Et puis voilà qu'un autre sujet s'impose à moi et que je me laisse emporter par ma plume, l'envie de vous parler de ce qui fait d'une personne un autre être, de cette vie qui vous transforme totalement.
Le mot maman fait maintenant partie de moi et c'est ainsi que je me présenterai dans cette autre "vraie vie" qui m'attend désormais, parce que c'est ainsi, et que petit homme va aussi apprendre à vivre sans moi certaines heures du jour. La séparation prochaine s'annonce difficile pour nous deux mais nous savons bien qu'elle n'est qu'éphémère et que depuis qu'il fait partie de ma vie, il est l'astre autour duquel je gravite, l'horizon vers lequel je tends chaque soir, l'air qui emplit mes poumons et la petite musique qui me donne envie de continuer.
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Muskari or the beginning of a new season
Autumn, winter, spring, summer... autumn. Autumn, a new season in Finland, the beginning of a new life for the three of us. It might seems strange to accept your own motherhood after one year. And though I think I can declare it there: while we are getting ready to celebrate the first birthday of our little man, I have finally the feeling to fit the identity of a mother, this identity being there for almost twelve months like a cotton, while I was looking for marks, while I was trying to respond to the needs and expectations of my little one, step by step, without being really sure and proud of myself as a mom. And I can affirm today, with twelve months of delay making me live like in a timeless state and a mysterious elsewhere, you can have maternal instinct -or parental one- but you are never born as a parent, you become one, day after day, improvising always a little bit, by growing as a parent at the same time than the child you gave birth to.
I am putting my pen to paper again on this blog to talk about this strange fact turning Finland, the first universe of life and discovery of my son, into my own new universe of adventures and explorations, season after season. By changing my homecountry at the edge of a birth, I also created a new life -literally- for myself, and this expression is not anymore just a linguistic image. Now that our little one is taking his first steps of big boy, I am also slowly exiting a long dream of a year, where our life together allowed us to discover each other and a little bit more ourselves too, far from the noise of the city, far from the halos of the "real life", made of duties and adult pleasures, fleeting encounters and smiles sometimes forced.
This post meant to be originally entitled "I have tested for you" where I would have talked about our new initiation music course, muskari, in which we are taking part with joy every week. And then, here we are, I have been filled with another subject and my pen (or keyboard ;)) is leading me somewhere else, towards an envy of telling you what makes a person another one, with this life transforming you totally.
The word "mummy" is now part of me and that is how I will introduce myself in this other "real life" waiting for me now, because it is like that, and because my little man will have also to learn to live without me for some daily hours. The next separation will be difficult for both of us but we know that it will be an ephemeral one. And I know also that since he came to my life as a part of it, he is the astral body around which I am gravitating, the horizon to which I am heading every evening, the air which is filling my lungs and the little music which gives me the envy to continue.
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Muskari or the beginning of a new season
Autumn, winter, spring, summer... autumn. Autumn, a new season in Finland, the beginning of a new life for the three of us. It might seems strange to accept your own motherhood after one year. And though I think I can declare it there: while we are getting ready to celebrate the first birthday of our little man, I have finally the feeling to fit the identity of a mother, this identity being there for almost twelve months like a cotton, while I was looking for marks, while I was trying to respond to the needs and expectations of my little one, step by step, without being really sure and proud of myself as a mom. And I can affirm today, with twelve months of delay making me live like in a timeless state and a mysterious elsewhere, you can have maternal instinct -or parental one- but you are never born as a parent, you become one, day after day, improvising always a little bit, by growing as a parent at the same time than the child you gave birth to.
I am putting my pen to paper again on this blog to talk about this strange fact turning Finland, the first universe of life and discovery of my son, into my own new universe of adventures and explorations, season after season. By changing my homecountry at the edge of a birth, I also created a new life -literally- for myself, and this expression is not anymore just a linguistic image. Now that our little one is taking his first steps of big boy, I am also slowly exiting a long dream of a year, where our life together allowed us to discover each other and a little bit more ourselves too, far from the noise of the city, far from the halos of the "real life", made of duties and adult pleasures, fleeting encounters and smiles sometimes forced.
This post meant to be originally entitled "I have tested for you" where I would have talked about our new initiation music course, muskari, in which we are taking part with joy every week. And then, here we are, I have been filled with another subject and my pen (or keyboard ;)) is leading me somewhere else, towards an envy of telling you what makes a person another one, with this life transforming you totally.
The word "mummy" is now part of me and that is how I will introduce myself in this other "real life" waiting for me now, because it is like that, and because my little man will have also to learn to live without me for some daily hours. The next separation will be difficult for both of us but we know that it will be an ephemeral one. And I know also that since he came to my life as a part of it, he is the astral body around which I am gravitating, the horizon to which I am heading every evening, the air which is filling my lungs and the little music which gives me the envy to continue.
