Mothermorphosis

So our butterflies have become, as you would say. And the kids were overjoyed to be able to watch the entire process of becoming. Truly magnificent, though a bit unexpectedly messy, but glorious nonetheless. Even the one whose chrysalis has fallen and was placed gently on a soft napkin finally struggled out of the enclosure and joined the other painted ladies. Can you imagine being a creepy crawly caterpillar and then suddenly to have legs, and miraculously, beautiful wings? We have been all about butterflies at our house lately (even studying mummies in Egypt has not been as exciting as the new-birth from the chrysalides)! We wonder if they know what they have become and if they realize their beauty, and how they know what to do with their changed form. How do they know how to fly when nobody has shown them how? It must be in their nature, I suppose. Interestingly, as a caterpillar this exotic creature could not travel far, did not see well, and used its strong jaw to chew leaves. In its newer form, the butterfly can go far distances (once we set them free), has much better vision and drinks nectar through its proboscis. The butterfly’s life span is short, sometimes only a few weeks to a couple of months, and yet they mate as soon as possible and try to distribute their eggs where they will most likely survive before its own life ends. A bit disheartening, but also reminds me of my favourite spider, from Charlotte’s Web. In fact, watching this change, this metamorphosis (which is, by the way, mostly hormone driven), has made me think a lot about motherhood and the beauty of change that it creates in us.


I would like to propose a new term: mothermorphosis. Humor me, I know I can get pretty corny pretty quickly, but still… For ten days we watched our caterpillars eating constantly and growing quickly, spinning silk, keeping busy. Then suddenly they were completely still, hidden within their chrysalides. For nine days we watched and saw nothing happening(in fact, I didn’t even take a single picture of this still stage). It appeared that they were completely stagnant, in fact we worried that the one who had fallen had in fact died, that life had ended. And yet what we couldn’t see was a miraculous transformation, as the caterpillars had metamorphosized (is that a word?) and emerged full of grace and knowledge at how to be this beautiful creature. Now think of mothers. I remember going for a walk with a friend when I was pregnant with my second and pushing my eldest in a stroller, and she asked me what I used to like to do before I was a Mom. I couldn’t answer her. But I went home bothered and made a huge list of who I used to be and what I used to do and called her to answer her question. As mothers, sometimes a lot of who we used to be gets lost or left behind, or we forget that it’s still there, just in a different form or use. At times we feel our lives are stagnant and that we have nothing to show for our days, weeks and months. But few, if anybody, see into our homes and our arms to see what we are really doing with this precious time. Watching Grandmas and empty-nesters, I have no doubt that I too will emerge from this full-time motherhood with extra vision, unaccounted for knowledge, and beautiful earned wings. Mothermorphosis isn’t easy, it is hormonal, and it takes a lot of work to take something so creepy-crawly and expect it to fly, but we as mothers can do it, and we will do it beautifully. It’s in our nature.