By Michelle Windsor
Every night before bed M gives me a Superman hug. He wraps his ever-growing arms around my neck and squeezes as tight as he can. “Strong like Superman,” he says, and then, “Love you Mama,” as he gives me a kiss on the cheek. His love for me, reflected in his eyes and bubbling over in his laugh, is one of his many superpowers. My love for him is my mama power.
I find mama power in my stretched and strengthened body that housed, birthed, and fed him. I feel it in my arms when I pick him up, requiring a little more effort every day as he gets heavier. It’s transferred through my hands as they serve meals and wipe away tears. My voice echoes with it every time I teach him a new word, sing him to sleep, or read a book.
I ask for mama power in daily, whispered prayers, let it slip in hidden curses. It’s found in stolen moments of solitary silence and at the bottom of uncountable cups of coffee. It’s passed down from the mamas before me in well-worn volumes of experience and advice. I draw it from the mamas around me, a welcoming spring of understanding and acceptance.
My mama power grows and recharges with those nightly Superman hugs and allows my heart to carry more hope, worry, and love than I could have ever imagined.
Michelle is a thirty-something working mama, wife, and Midwest girl that lives by the ocean. Full-time thinker, part-time writer. Lover of strong coffee and cheap red wine. Find her on the beach not relaxing with her toddler, in the kitchen trying to replicate her grandma’s chocolate chip cookies, or up to her neck in craft supplies attempting to become the next Pinterest prodigy.