A disclaimer to this post is that I don’t have all of the answers. In fact, more often than not I feel like I am taking a pop quiz that I never got the chance to study for. But what I do have is honesty. It has taken me ten years and three children to acquire this, but with every bump in the road I have hit, I have gotten back up with a little more knowledge and confidence. It didn’t start out that way though.
Going back to the beginning, I will be the first to own up to not really loving pregnancy. I thought it was supposed to be magical and a beautiful moment in my life full of photo shoots and nursery decorating. What I wasn’t fully prepared for was the “growing pains” that accompanied every. single. day of this nine-month journey. Don’t get me wrong, feeling those little kicks and knowing that I was growing a beautiful life inside of me was super cool, but the negative aspects like heartburn, back pain, and non-stop peeing seemed to cloud those magical moments and left me with a bad taste in my mouth. No pun intended.
This first taste of pregnancy made me feel like there was something seriously wrong with me. Why didn’t I love being pregnant? Wasn’t this what God created me to do? This was not a good sign and I was certainly cursed to be a terrible mother because of this!
I will save you the details of my first labor and delivery but let’s just say it was a bumpy ride. Even after reading all of the books and scouring YouTube for birthing videos (I DO NOT RECOMMEND) what became my experience was nothing I was prepared for. In the end, I was thrown into deep water head first, up a creek without a paddle, and forced to deal with what was handed to me. I am not a “go with the flow” kind of gal, so this became terrifying really quickly. I had lost complete control and was spiraling into a chaotic realm at super speed.
Speaking of that, of course, I had everything that would follow the birth already etched into stone. There was no room for revisions or a plan B. I would breastfeed in beautiful pajamas and sleep train from night number one to ensure a full night’s rest as soon as possible. Oh Lord, that sweet girl was off of her rocker and about to get bombarded with a huge helping of reality soup.
You probably saw this coming, but of course, breastfeeding went south FAST and my sweet firstborn wasn’t into the idea of the sleep schedule I had made for him. As it turned out, babies run on THEIR schedule not the stupid one I created. That was my first spoonful.
The second dose was force-fed to me when I had to give him the “dreaded formula” because nursing didn’t work out for us. I tried so hard, but it didn’t end up being the right fit for the two of us. He was starving and screaming so my husband suggested making him a bottle. I was completely and utterly offended to my core…but I was also exhausted so I agreed to give it a try. I sobbed while mixing up this bottle. Like, couldn’t catch my breath sobbing. I was a walking/talking failure and was now about to “poison” my tiny little newborn.
Looking back at myself as a first-time mom, I just want to run back in time, dry her tears and hug her tight. As it turned out, formula was a perfectly fine and safe way to feed a baby. He even started to sleep better with a full belly which meant I wasn’t feeling like a disheveled zombie as much. I seriously could cry just thinking back on how I felt during those early days with my first newborn. I know now that a lot of moms have also felt this way and it breaks my heart that these feelings even exist in the first place.
In 2015 I added stay-at-home mom to my resume. This became the BIGGEST helping of reality soup I would consume to date. Boy was I not prepared for this adventure. We had made this gameplan as soon as I became pregnant with our second child. It didn’t make sense financially for us to pay for childcare for two children (16 months a part) so becoming a SAHM was the perfect solution. I am so blessed to have this opportunity, don’t get me wrong, but when the reality set in and I was home with basically TWO babies, these uncharted waters became dangerous and murky.
I “joke” that I blacked out during the first two years of this, but in reality, I think I actually did. Combining extreme sleep deprivation with running a household proved to be quite the challenge. Not to mention, our second child ended up taking to nursing quite well (YAY, go me) but that turned into a whole new set of mountains to climb. Apparently, I was producing some type of golden milk that he needed every two hours to survive. As a result of my “magical milk,” he was super clingy and even if I thought about leaving the house (or room) I was greeted with a symphony of shrieking that kept me from opening the windows of the house for years to come.
It was all a lot. But what was even worse was the guilt I felt for not embracing this time as a precious gift while loving every moment of it. Wasn’t I supposed to be baking fresh bread and enjoying leisurely strolls through the neighborhood by now? I definitely wasn’t “strolling” and could usually be found perched on the couch with one baby attached to me and another playing with toys at my feet. In all honesty, it all felt really lonely and confusing. Wasn’t this the dream? I always saw so many working moms venting on social media that they had it hard and desired to be a SAHM instead. I should be happy…but I really wasn’t.
What I realized during these hard years was that it is all hard. Period. Whether you are working full-time or navigating the SAHM life, nothing is easy when you have children. NOTHING. I also learned the hard way that having feelings that didn’t go along with what society considered to be the “norm” shouldn’t be taboo. I say I learned the hard way because I battled with these feelings that were never spoken into existence and it made me feel like I was a defective mom. How it all played out was the more I spoke openly, the more I found that other moms were feeling the same way, holed up in their messy homes covered in spit-up and tears.
Honesty became the exact tool that I needed. Plain and simple. Honesty. Trying to pretend to have it all together is exhausting. The freeing feeling I experienced when I admitted my true thoughts was so liberating! I harbored so much guilt over the years that I found myself depressed and like I had to be the worst mom in the entire world. I felt like I couldn’t measure up to the moms I saw who could have a clean home while nursing their babies and making a delicous dinner for their husband. Most days I was lucky to squeeze in a shower and if I brushed my teeth I was doing damn good.
When I stopped comparing and started being honest, I was able to start the turn around. This made my feelings valid and that made all of the difference in the world. I wasn’t broken. I was a normal mom with normal feelings. Just because I wasn’t fitting in with what seemed to be the “norm” didn’t mean that there was something wrong with me. Maybe I was just finding my voice and courage to bare the hard facts. The way I was experiencing motherhood was just fine and dandy.
Since then, I have had another child…and in turn, another pregnancy that I didn’t exactly enjoy. Did things get easier with each new bundle of joy we brought home? Not really. BUT what I am here to talk about is that I made it through. Even though it wasn’t all rainbows and lollipops, I learned that I could survive the hardest of moments and come hell or high water, everything would be ok.
Today I am writing this blog wishing I could have read this ten years ago. I can’t even imagine the relief I would have felt stumbling upon these words in the dead of night, nursing a baby or caring for a child who was awoken from a nightmare. It would have been life-changing for me, feeling heard and somewhat understood.
If I could go back in time and talk to myself as a nervous, first-time mom, I would say this: It is ok to admit you are struggling. No matter how it may look on the outside, no one really has it all together and is learning and fighting through just like you. Understanding that life doesn’t always look like we think it should is not only beneficial, but crucial to survive the journey. Give yourself some daily grace, know you are trying your best, and look for something joyful even in the hard days of motherhood. Now go brush your teeth and change your clothes, homeless chic is not the look.
I write all of this to say, it’s going to be ok. With each season of motherhood comes its own serving of reality soup, but giving yourself some grace along the way sure helps make the ride more enjoyable. Whether you are reading this with sleep-deprived eyes in the newborn stage, or drying tears from them as you just dropped off your “baby” at college, I hope you can take something from this, and find joy in this beautiful, chaotic journey of motherhood.
Reality soup packs a big punch, but it is also nourishing to the soul.
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