Before I became a parent, I was aware of the fierceness that motherhood brings. I’d heard my friends speak of it, and as a teacher I’d certainly seen many a lioness in action.

I understood the mother’s urge to protect her young as a primal instinct. But of course an understanding always deepens with experience.

I’m now fairly certain that the roar of a mother in labour is in fact the birth of her inner lioness, giving her a strength she didn’t know she had (unfortunately some of our inner lionesses *ahem, mine* aren’t as strong as others and we beg for allllll the drugs and whatever else will stop the pain – but still, I did roar).

And there she sits from that moment on, buried inside us but always ready. Most of the time we hardly notice her, though that girl can leap fast when needed, giving us that hot-stomach feeling, putting our hairs on end. It can take a good bit of self-talk to calm her down. Sometimes we don’t even try, our lioness is on high alert and ready to pounce. We might need other people to calm her down, to tell her it will be okay, to talk through some steps so that she doesn’t have to feel so anxious all of the time.

Still, I expected the lioness.

What I didn’t expect was how much my lioness might take me out of my comfort zone. That she might make me become a braver person. Because while being a lioness doesn’t make you more aggressive, it does make you more assertive. You become an advocate, THE advocate for your child. And that can take courage, particularly if your child doesn’t seem to fit the mould of other children (Please note: I’m not referring specifically to my children, just working through the idea. Of course, mine are their own brand of wonderful weirdling).

And just as it takes courage to advocate for our children, it can also take courage to accept them for the people they are. To not try changing them into the people we thought they might be, or the people we think they’d be happier as. To let them unfold as the unique little individuals they are, to embrace all of their quirks and foibles as they grow and change.

At a personal level, I live in a small country town. It is as beloved to me as it is stifling to others. But though I love it dearly for many reasons, I am acutely aware since having my sons, that it is still a very monocultural, sport-focused town. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I feel the weight of that when it comes to how we raise our boys.

I know life will probably go easier for them if they are good at sport. I know the lifelong friendships and sense of community, along with the health benefits, that can be found at such establishments and of course I want that for my kids.

But at the same time, I don’t want them to think they have to be stars. Or that they have to play a sport they don’t like just because that’s what everyone else does. Or that if they’re no good at sport then that somehow makes them any less.

I want them to know that physical strengths do not outweigh character strengths. I want them to feel loved and valued unconditionally, whether they take up Irish Dancing or play Aussie Rules or start a chess club. Whether they’re quiet and sensitive, or loud and bold.

So as their advocate I need to have courage too. Because while they may follow every normal, mainstream path that has ever been trodden, they also may not. And when you walk your own path you’re bound to come across tricky stuff.

I guess that’s what our lioness is for. She just sits there, ready.

Eliza xx