As women, we are born more than once during our lifetime.
Our mothers give birth to us, breathe life into us and our dads mold us.
As we grow, we reinvent ourselves, break our molds and reshape us.
We meet people that either add beautiful details to our sculpture,
or that dent or break off pieces of the work of art that we are.
Later on, should we choose to be mothers, we deliberately break
ourselves to make room for another life.
We conceptualize a new sculpture, a hopeful, emotional, work of art,
that will bring us a step closer to the love we so desperately seek.
With the births of our children, we ourselves, are reborn.
We reconfigure our bodies, expand our minds, double the size of our hearts,
we break pieces of us to make their sculpture, we cry, we laugh, we yell, we regret a lot,
we don’t know what we are doing, we lose hope, we sometimes even forget who we are in the process. We struggle to come to terms with the fact that a piece of us will become and actually is
an independent growing being, walking alone, with only our love to protect them, to mend the dents that us as well as others will make, to help add details to the their own sculpture and hope that we have shown them how important it is to love and care for themselves as we love and care for them.
