Fierce Mamma Love

I first shared this story over at Roots of She when I was a tribe contributor, but I really wanted to share it with you today, Mothering Sunday. A tribute to fierce mamma love.

In Scotland in the wintertime it gets really dark really early. You frequently find yourself hurrying through the gloom, trying not to fall on the slippy pavements coated with wet leaves illuminated only by yellow, fluorescent streetlights. The wind gusts past, whipping your damp hair around your head, and your hands turn red raw in the biting cold.

It was on an evening such as this that I learned just what I was capable of.

My kids were all much younger then, the youngest just 3 years old. I could feel his small chubby fingers gripping onto my rain-wet hand as we stumbled through the drizzle to collect his sister from her Brownie Guide meeting. His brother ran on a little bit ahead, stopping at each of the curbs to let us catch up so we could cross the road together.

Running slightly late, we burst into the village hall where all the other mummies and daddies were picking up their excited little girls, and my girl rushed up to me, hugging me tightly round my waist. She was full of excitement and chatter, and as we were bundled back out into the dark, my attention was divided between trying to navigate the car park, following my daughter’s constant stream of news and keeping an eye on her brothers, who were running back towards the curb.

My heart fluttered slightly when I thought the boys weren’t going to wait, but they stood, toes to the curb, waiting impatiently for us to catch up. Once again, I felt those small chubby fingers holding tightly to my hand, as I looked both ways into the wet dark night. One set of headlights glittered faintly in the distance, and so I told the kids to cross the road.

We got to the white painted line in the centre of the road when he fell. Tripped over his wellies. Which was so typical. He was always stumbling over his own feet. I could see that the headlights had approached closer, and so I hoisted him to his feet and told the older two to keep going to the other side of the road.

We continued to cross, but the car was much closer now. And then he tripped again.

The car was almost on top of us, and so I picked him up, and with strength I never knew I had, threw him the last couple of feet to the pavement, completely losing my balance in the process. Before I knew it, I was lying flat on my back in the middle of a dimly lit road, in the rain, dressed all in black, with a car only moments from running me over.

And then everything slowed right down. I couldn’t move – couldn’t roll myself out of the way. I just remember thinking at least he’s safe – that at least my little boy wasn’t the one lying on this rain-soaked road. His words which he always said to me when I put him to bed – You look like a rose and you smell like a rose – drift through my head like a ghost of a dream. And I remember thinking, this is it – this is how I’m going to die…

I don’t know how he did it, but the driver stopped just in time. I managed to pick myself up and take myself to the pavement towards my near-hysterical children, and together we walked the rest of the way home. By the time I’d got them changed and tucked them into bed – You look like a rose, and you smell like a rose – my husband had arrived home from work and my carefully kept composure crumpled. I sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and sobbed.

It was only later, much later, that I realized what I’d done – I’d passed the test. I now had a definitive answer – I would throw myself into the path of danger to save my children. I had channelled the fierce mother: that strong feminine energy that courses through our veins when our babies are threatened. That energy which demands that we face peril, that we sacrifice ourselves for the sake of our little ones. Fierce mamma love – undiluted, all-consuming, self-effacing love.

If ever there is a moment at which the mother goddess reaches down and takes control of a woman’s actions, this is it.

And once again, while it is easiest for us to view mothers, as our conditioning dictates, as women birthing and raising children, I want you to expand your perception of this immensely powerful archetype. When we give birth to something, when we nurture something, when we care for it, raise it towards independence, we access this archetypal energy. And make no mistake, if the object of your care is under threat, then the fierce mother goddess in us all is activated and it is then that we discover just what we are made of.

Fierce mamma love – there is no stronger, more powerful force out there in the known universe. No other force so capable, so compassionate, so courageous. No other force so contrary to self-preservation. An adrenalin fueled, goddess given force – the force of fierce mamma love

If you would like to explore the many facets of mothering energy for yourself, Mothers & Crones is now available for purchase. You can find out all about it here!!