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Motherhood and Mountain Climbing

These are the reflections of Tabitha Jorgensen who joined the Meadowbrook Waldorf School community more than 12 years ago when her eldest son began kindergarten. He has since graduated from high school but Tabitha has three younger children at the Meadowbrook. She is currently the Enrollment Coordinator and Latin teacher.

Tabitha and her sister on the mountain

So I decided to climb a mountain for my 40th birthday. Not a small mountain, but Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. A sleep outside for 9 nights, no running water, altitude sickness, sub-zero at the top kind of a mountain.

Mt Kilimanjaro

Why would I want to do this you may ask? A legitimate question – when I invited my sister to come with me, she responded that for her 40th we would be doing something sensible like drinking wine in Italy. She, of course came out obligation and duty.  But truly, as this birthday approached, I could feel my life changing in profound ways. My oldest child would be moving out of the house. My youngest child was going into second grade. There were no babies about and no more coming. Sleep could now be counted on in regular lengths of 7 or 8 hours. Date night is an established thing, everyone can buckle themselves into seatbelts, and they can all push themselves on the swing at the playground (well if I’m truly honest, with the 4th child we don’t actually go to any playgrounds but you get my meaning).  Space was opening up in my life – space for me. What did I want to do with it?

Now let me explain.  I have a full-time job that I truly love. I work in admissions at my children’s school and I teach Latin to the middle school students there. Every day I get to work in an organization that I believe is changing the world, one child at a time. I love being a mom and I have had the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom, a part-time working mom, and a full-time working mom.  We did what we felt was right at different phases of our family’s life. I have no regrets about where I have been or what I have been doing. My life is blessedly full so this climb was not about dissatisfaction.  It was more about what’s next and how will I know – because for the last 18 years, I have really been a mom first, above all else. It’s not like my children don’t need me now, but they need me differently. This is both liberating and disconcerting. Who am I really?

Climbing with MWS board president, Lorna Persson

So I climbed. And it was hard. I slept outside for 9 nights in a small tent (with my sister of course). There was no running water so the tent smelled really interesting by day 3, and by day 4 I wouldn’t step outside without a hat. Some nights were so cold we filled our water bottles with hot water and used them as little heaters at the bottom of our sleeping bags. When I hit 15,000 feet my head hurt so badly I wanted to fling myself off the side of said mountain.  There were also moments of pure, raw beauty like the lava tower that stood starkly against the bright, blue sky; or the clouds flashing with electricity thousands of feet below us; or the glacier whose transient presence brought us to tears; or a first glimpse at the Southern Cross.

On summit day, we woke up at 4 am in the freezing darkness, and began what would be a grueling day of switchback hiking almost 3000ft up. No one wanted to eat, no one really wanted to talk – we focused on putting one foot in front of the other for about 8 hours.  Some of us had a mantra we kept repeating. Mine was nothing more than counting in increments of 60 (funny, I do this on the treadmill in the morning too).  Part way up, my best friend since middle school (yes, she too accompanied me on this crazy adventure) said, “What do you think, this or labor?” And in that moment, I really couldn’t say which was more difficult. And then we were there. I have a picture of me smiling in front of the sign at the summit, and then kissing that same sign with delirious glee. I think there are pictures of me kissing my newborn babies with a similar expression on my face. Looking back at the experience, I just don’t remember the pain.

At the summit, Uhuru Peak. Uhuru means Freedom in Kiswahili.

Now I’m back to my life and the “real” world, or at least my world, and here is what I’ve learned. First, motherhood prepared me for this climb like nothing else could.  From endurance, to functioning on little sleep, to appreciating a small moment in a large experience, motherhood is an excellent teacher. It is a long haul endeavor, not a sprint to the finish. It requires us to adapt to new situations and environments with little or no training; it calls on us to participate fully and without reservation. One of our mountain guides shared with us his observation that the most successful group of climbers are generally middle-aged women (am I middle aged???), the mothers in our group smiled at one another knowingly. What’s a little mountain climbing compared to months of morning sickness, 15 hours of labor, years of sleeplessness, fearful nights in an emergency room, worse fearful nights waiting for a new driver to come home? What’s a little mountain climbing compared to a tiny hand holding yours, a warm body with footy pajamas snuggled in your bed, sticky ice cream cone kisses, sunny afternoons at a ball field, a diploma (not yours)?  Kilimanjaro was big, but we’d already done something bigger.

Here is what else I learned. Sometimes you get answers, but not to the questions you are asking.  I have no new insight into “what’s next” for me. I don’t know if I will finish medical school, write the book that is rattling around in my head, live abroad, or even finish the load of laundry that is piling up in the hallway.  What I do know is that I will make mindful, deliberate choices. Choices about my own future, about how I spend my time, about where I invest my energy.  As parents we are constantly doing this for our children. Each decision, from what to feed them, to applying sun-block, to where to send them to school is made with such care. Decisions about our own lives, in contrast, are often an afterthought or a reaction.  Living intentionally is a practice – one that requires constant re-commitment.  Sometimes this means making a change, and sometimes it simply means fully embracing just where we are at this moment in time. I have been practicing this mindfulness lately and the unexpected, overwhelming emotion that I experience as a result is gratitude.  I am so grateful for summer beach days, colorful changing leaves, the starry winter sky, laughter around the dinner table, hot cocoa and mittens at the front door, a good book, good friends – the experiences and people that make up my full, messy, wonderful life. I don’t need to know exactly where I will be tomorrow or the next day because I am truly present in this moment. And it’s a good moment, and that’s enough.

5 thoughts on “Motherhood and Mountain Climbing

  1. You, my beloved daughter-in-law, epitomize everything that is sensitive, smart, wonderful, kind and intuitive as a loving wife to my Son and a beautiful Mom to my grandchildren!

  2. after you do the laundry, please note that you are very small percentage of an enormous population that has accomplished a variety of gargantuan goals/succeeded in living out your dreams and wishes that people will applaud you for and encourage them to appreciate their ideas or values can be made real with effort. no doubt “influence” is another achievement. mt.kilimanjaro? very impressive.
    tuatapere,southland,new zealand

  3. Just happened to come across your story while dreaming of sending my children to Meadowbrook! What an inspiring and beautiful story! Thank you for sharing…I spent a month in Africa many years ago volunteering at schools and visiting homes…life changing experience!

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