Motherhood

When I graduated high school, the only thing I knew I wanted to do "when I grew up" was to be a mom. Maybe all women feel compelled this way to become mothers, I don’t know. But when it finally happened for me (after many years of struggles), I spent the first 3 months of her life thinking "I was wrong! So wrong!" I was convinced that the poor child was doomed because I was her mother.  I couldn’t get anything right.  She cried, she spit up constantly, she didn’t nurse well.  The wave of pure love didn’t wash over me, natural instincts didn’t kick in; sure I loved her, but I was terrified of her.  This wasn’t how motherhood was supposed to be and since no one had warned me, I was positive I was the only mom who ever felt this way.  I was in a constant state of panic.  Someone was going to see how unfit I was and take her away from me.

The funny thing is: that while all of this went on inside of me, I don’t think anyone realized.  Her first daycare provider even commented on how calm I was; she’d assumed I had other children.  The truth was that I was frozen in fear by this screaming child.  I didn’t know what she wanted; I didn’t know how to calm her. And I was grateful that someone else could hear her, because I’d begun to think I’d lost my mind.  I handed over my baby for two reasons: 1. because I was desperate, and 2. so that I would know my daughter was safe there.  I then quickly became friends with that caregiver for two reasons: 1. because she was compassionate and sympathetic, and 2. so that I would know my daughter was safe there.  Turns out my maternal instincts were in fact, in working order.  They were just hidden behind the thick walls I’d built around myself.  (But that’s a story for another day.)

I still question myself daily on my mothering abilities, and my daughter is 5 now.  Her sister who’s 3, shares the struggle with us.  I get it wrong all the time.  I beat myself up over my feelings.  But the older I get, and the more these children love me despite my flaws, the more I realize I am good at this.  Motherhood is an emotional rollercoaster.  Many of us get overwhelmed; most just don’t admit it publicly.  Thanks to my tendency to be overly honest and blurt things out and especially thanks to other mothers who have, in turn, shared their struggles with me and the world; I now know I’m not alone.  I’m not crazy, although sleep deprivation and constant calls of “Mama?!” do make me disorientated.