River Mama

Community Care, Self Care, and A Happy Mother’s Day To All!

Last weekend I went with my husband to the Lochsa River to take our new orange raft out for a spin. The last time we were on this river we flipped our little blue boat, just the 2 of us, and went for a long swim. Afterward I was so tired, beat down tired, and wondered, “What’s wrong with me?” Later that week I took a pregnancy test and found out there was a tiny mysterious person growing inside me, who had joined us for that epic cold water adventure.

This time we left the babies with my parents and camped out for one night before getting on the river. There’s something so beautiful, magical, and rare about this type of river community that comes together for these festivals focused on playing on the water. Just for the joy of it. Just for the full body aliveness of being splashed in the face by freezing cold water. Like renewal, like baptism. To be part of something so much bigger than oneself, so much more powerful. The waves on the Lochsa are enormous, even at low water.

I love that feeling of being consumed by the water, of merging with the great power of this raging force of nature that welcomes me in and pushes me around. She’s so clear about where she will allow us to go and our job is to follow her lead as much as possible. There are occasional moments when we must fight the flow, because it’s not safe. But other than those bursts of fight, we just follow the beautiful v’s and curves of the crashing waves and allow them to wash over us, clearing the dust. Waking us up to this beautiful life full of adventure and wildness.

I’ve never been a religious person but if I had to point to God I would go to the river because that’s where I feel her. She’s a mighty power house and a humbling force that mirrors my own power within and she lets me know when I’m not listening well. She moves giant boulders and smooths all the hard edges with patient resilience. She’s not afraid of change or chaos.

Really I came to write about the amazing people who are attracted to this river God, this powerful force. My husband and I showed up at a campsite called “The Ghetto” where lots of river people were camped out and sitting around fires telling stories. The Ghetto is the free campsite where the dirt-bag boaters meet up to play. We didn’t know anyone and the next morning we walked around to see who was planning to get on the river. My husband offered to set shuttle with our trailer to carry boats at the end and just like that we had 10 new friends to go play with.

We got suited up and headed out to commune with the river and face our fate. River people look out for each other and will rescue anyone who falls into the 39 degree water. There’s something about the generosity of strangers and the playfulness of this crew that melts my heart and gives me hope for the future. Everyone is trying to be helpful and badass and fun. We share snacks and river stories and boats.

I love getting to yell on the river. I love cheering for strangers and laughing as loud as I can from a deep belly place. I love the river and the people who are called to her and getting to be seen in this way. Witnessed for a skill that is deep in my bones, and humbled by the great power bigger than all of us.

On our drive towards the river I started wondering if I would still love it, if I would still feel that connection in my blood. Over the past year with our second baby I’ve been in the disassembly phase where everything feels new again. Even my body is still an unfamiliar mystery that keeps changing. I’m still experimenting, trying out things again that used to bring me joy and sometimes they feel more draining now or just make me tired. I let myself wonder on the way to the river. I had the thought that there’s something deliciously pointless about running rivers. You don’t get anything at the end, other than boundless joy, elation, new skills, and friends.

So much of my life as a mother of 2 little boys now feels managerial and task oriented. I wondered if this river trip would feel like a waste of time. For this Mother’s Day, I’m giving myself the gift of time. Time to myself, time for the river, time with friends, time for community, and time for fun with no goal in mind. This is what I want. Last weekend I got time with my husband and to feel like my old self for just a few hours on the river, to feel care free and wild again. I accepted all of the gifts the river shared with me, including getting to be the hero!

In Lochsa Falls my husband and our new friend, also a large man, fell out of the boat and I got to reach out and rescue them. I love that! One of our straps broke and I rescued our boat pump first and our water bottles so we wouldn’t lose our stuff or trash the river. I had this moment of feeling the boat stand up on end and accepting that it was probably about to flip and I reached for the rope around the outside and felt someone fly over my head and then the boat righted itself. I opened my eyes and got to be the Super Hero for the day. Yahoo!

In the last 5 years of motherhood (or 6 if you include pregnancy) I’ve felt the loneliness of isolation both within the confines of the nuclear family, and also from the years of distancing from the pandemic. Now I’m giving myself the gift of community again, of being vulnerable, asking for help, and showing up open-hearted to be embraced by friends, family, and the river. I learned to be strong and independent as a river guide but I also learned how to work as a team. We need more of that in family life. I’ve learned so much in these last 5 years. I’ve fucked up a lot too and bumbled through what I thought motherhood would be like and what I’ve actually discovered along the way. I’m working on giving myself grace during this intense learning period.

This isn’t what I sat down to write. I meant to write about the isolation and loneliness of trying to do everything yourself as a mother, as a nuclear family, and how we all really need our tribe, our river community. We all need to feel embraced by generosity, and power, witnessed in our hard work and to feel like a Super Hero for the day. Not because we did it all ourselves but because we did it together. This life is meant to be shared. This life is meant to be joyfully explored. It’s OK to make mistakes and give ourselves grace.

This Mother’s Day my oldest friend who I’ve known since kindergarten is coming out and we are going away, just the 2 of us, for the weekend. We will soak in hot springs, sleep, laugh, and adventure together as mothers, as women, and as old friends. What a gift! My children will be cared for by my husband and my parents and her’s will be cared for by her parents. Motherhood is a team effort. We don’t need to pretend to be able to do it all alone, to be comfortable all the time, or to be bathed in eternal bliss because we have reproduced. Life is not like that. Life is a messy business to be explored and discovered over and over with wonder, with joy, and with suffering. I meant to write this whole piece on the joy and suffering of motherhood. I will work on this! Motherhood is like the river- it breaks us open, kicks our butts, and then relentlessly smooths all our hard edges until we are wildly powerful forces of nature.

For this Mother’s Day I’m sending love out to all the mothers, to everyone born by a mother, to all those struggling to become mothers, to all the lonely mothers, and all the families in war torn countries protecting their babies. I want so badly to scoop up those mothers and babies and wrap them in all my love and tell them it will all be OK. Please Mother Earth, let it all be OK. Please Mother River smooth out our hard edges so we can remember what life is about. We can remember that we all started out as beautiful harmless sweet babies and we are meant to take care of each other. I’m sending out all of my love to all those who need it, with a big wide broken open heart. With tears and laughter. Joy and suffering. I’m here for it all. I love you.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love,

Carol