When a baby is born, a mother is too.
Mom Shame
While I want to acknowledge and validate the experience of feeling Just Not Good Enough, I also want to say that it is not a requirement of motherhood that we harbor a constant sense of inadequacy. It is not essential that we second-guess all of our decisions. We are not failing our kids if we end the day with a hot-and-ready pizza and a juice box and say, You know what, I did my best today, and I’m proud of that.
Eighteen Summers
I saw a Facebook post the other day that really set me off. It wasn’t political. Or a veiled guilt trip at working moms. (The algorithms have definitely figured me out on that front.) It wasn’t even a recipe that made my taste buds leap out of my mouth, only to climb back in when my brain reminded them it doesn’t have the attention span to make it past the 6th step. It was that infamous “You only have eighteen summers with your kid” post.
“No Mommy! Go away! I don’t want you!”
When we were struggling with infertility, in the midst of treatments and miscarriages and arguments and bank account managing, it was sometimes hard to hear the stories of those in the trenches. I knew logically that parenting was hard, but at times it was discouraging to hear people complain about the thing we were fighting like hell to achieve. I’d be lying if I said I never resented these complaints, because they were problems I wanted to have. And I’d also be lying that the stories didn’t elicit a lot of fear in me. What WERE we fighting like hell for, anyway?
Surprised By My Own Capacity
While I wasn’t prepared for the challenges I’d experience in early motherhood, I also wasn’t prepared for how much I would grow. I wasn’t prepared for the extent to which my own capacity would increase. I wasn’t prepared for how my own selfishness would shrink or what I’d be capable of enduring; that I could be submerged in the depths of personal hell and yet still extend myself to care for another human being. I wasn’t prepared for the deep strength I’d find in the darkest spaces. I learned I can survive more than I think I can. I learned I’m loved and supported more than I previously understood. I learned there are more resources available to me than I realized, even if I don’t always notice or see them.