I begin this week in awe of becoming a mother for the 4th time. My last baby arrived this week, last year.

The pandemic kept us all distracted. This was the 4th month of mask wearing, social distancing and lockdowns. It was also a time where the virus was so debilitating that I feared a wrong move would put myself and baby in danger.

There were no research on its effects on pregnant women. There were more deaths in black and brown men and women. I did not want to watch the news for we lacked leadership from those sworn to protect all men and women. This was also the time of protests by brave men and women.

A wide-awakening was ongoing and finding ways to refine ourselves was eminent. Enough was enough was all we could muster even as we protested our rights to exist, amidst ignorance for their bluster. Of course I stayed home, but my mind was on the streets.

We stayed home and prayed God’s plans for his children were of prosperity. Baby’s due date was eminent and so I focused on how to create another baby, another life, within an already pandemic and race-inflicted world.

Creating a new life, a new being, a new beginning, a new purpose within a world committed to a path leading to doomsday, seemed to be the last thing anyone should be undertaking.

But then again, I am not anyone.

By this time last year, it seemed that the most fruitful thing I could do to for a world so filled with darkness, was to shine a bit of light, with a dash of hope, and a sprinkle of love.

Imagining what his eyes would look like, his first smile, even his tears occupied my mind. It was a ‘He’. My third one for a world where I wished he was a butterfly. Love appears impossible in times of despair and frustration, but I choose it as a valuable experience. I choose it to fly away to the spaces and places full of brilliance, his brilliance, his beauty.

The beginning of love, a future full of hope, all of which seemed to be dissipating in the world at that time was a gift to the times.

So throughout this week, I want to keep these moments in mind. I want to relive this experience through words and pictures too. I want to contribute a share of myself to your world so you sense the light of my motherhood.

It’s a gift I continually gift myself. Like a restorative balm to soothe the realities of a world so full of harshness.

Motherhood shakes and informs every aspect of my being. It restores my soul too, in the way quiet streams of water do.

Like a Phoenix, I rise to every occasion, countering every interpretation necessary to showcase that my interior life, my nurturing life, even my academic life, as I define it, is so valued and revered and I wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

The beauty, the brilliance of being a black mother in light is my keep for the week. My doors are open. Enter if you may.