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My Rocking Chair

This past weekend I was invited to speak at a Mother’s Day charity event. The Mother Knows Best event consisted of a group of local writers reading essays on the topic of motherhood. Thanks to my friend Jen for snapping a photo!

It was a really fun evening full of hilarious and heartwarming stories. Today, I thought I’d share the essay I wrote… Happy Mother’s Day to all you mamas out there! :)


My Rocking Chair

Through all of the ups and downs of motherhood, I’ve never been alone. I’ve always had the unwavering comfort and stability of my one true love: my rocking chair.

Yes, you heard me – my tan, microfiber, overstuffed, La-Z-Boy rocker has been with me through thick and thin. That ugly, but oh-so-comfortable, rocker was the final purchase my husband and I made in preparation for our first child. And at the time, I had no idea what that chair would come to mean to me.

I rocked in that chair, holding my pregnant belly gazing around my daughter’s nursery anxiously awaiting her arrival.

I rocked in that chair on my first night home from the hospital when I was too sore to climb up into bed.

I rocked in that chair with tears streaming down my face, praying my sweet, screaming newborn would please, PLEASE nurse.

And I rocked in that chair when neither my baby or I wanted to leave the comfort of each other’s arms.

I rocked in that chair nearly every single night – singing songs, reading books, telling stories, and hours and hours of nursing (we eventually got the hang of it).

But before long, my trusty rocker was moved down the hall to a new nursery – my second daughter was on the way.

Bedtime routine with my toddler changed, and we both missed the comfort of the rocker. OUR rocker.

But soon enough, I was back to my old chair with a new baby in my arms.

Again, my rocker supported me through midnight feedings, leaky diapers, and failed swaddles.

And on an especially lucky afternoon, I’d find myself in my rocker with both my girls on my lap with a good book sandwiched in-between.

My rocker is four years old now – it’s heard me sing the same three lullabies countless time and creaks and moans with every push. It’s covered in milk stains and smudged from sticky fingers. And aside from thousands of smashed Cheerios, who even knows what has fallen between the cushions?!

Sometimes when my oldest daughter is feeling overwhelmed, we’ll sneak up to her sister’s nursery and rock together. Just her and I – and our trusty rocker.

Sitting in that chair is like being transported back in time. I can still feel her tiny, infant body curl into me. I can see the way her lips part when she softly snores. And I swear if I nuzzled my cheek down into her head, I’d be met by a mop of soft, dark, curls.

I wonder if she remembers all the hours we spent together here in this rocker.

I suppose someday, when our last baby is grown, and we no longer need a nursery, my trusty rocker will find it’s way into a family room. We’ll watch movies or play games. It will acquire new stains and popcorn will join all those Cheerios between the cushions.

And my favorite chair, full of cherished memories, will be there to comfort and support me in the next stage of motherhood.

Hope all you mamas have a great weekend – you deserve it!

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xoxo joanna

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