“I’m a mother, hear me roar!” (Just don’t let the kids wake, please God…)
Hello, my name is Pearly and I am a mother. I have been for 9 months now, and yet it still feels strange to say it. Perhaps it’s because I question myself as a mother every day, perhaps it’s because there’s always so much to do as a mother that my days merge into nights that merge back into days. It isn’t always a cold day in hell, though sometimes, it feels like it. Sometimes, being is mother can be a warm day on the beach that makes me want to prance with my less-than perfect body in my decade old bikini because I paid $80 for it but never wore it. (Don’t ask me why I didn’t feel confident enough to wear it in my 20s but “kept it for the future”)
I’ve been a journalist for a decade, I’ve worked in many countries including the Philippines, Japan, China and South America, researching everything from white-collar crime to cholera in Haiti. I’ve spent time in prisons with murderers and in refugee camps with dying children. Still, without a doubt, I have learnt that learning to be a mother has a steeper learning curve than ANY occupation I’ve tried.
So, I’ve created this space for me to pen my stories, both painful and hilarious, of caring for Kappy, a terrifying replica of my husband and I.
I also invite any and all mothers to send their stories to me with photos and illustrations, of their journeys. Let this space be a collection of love stories for mothers-to-be to learn from and for us to rejoice in the stubbornness of mankind in learning age-old lessons.
motherwarriors 