I have no idea how to do this.
I realize this truth at some point every day. When it hits me, I get roller-coaster belly and jelly knees, as the ground I thought I was standing on is suddenly gone. All that I had so proudly figured out yesterday no longer applies today. The knowledge that I'm flying blind, winging it, somehow left in charge of the entire well-being of this tiny human, is petrifying.
Before I had a baby I was barely able to keep plants alive. In fact, I prided myself on it. I was too full of myself, my work, to attend to the needs of dependents. I never babysat, didn't have any aspirations for spending large amounts of time with kids and was uncomfortable holding newborns.
But now I have a daughter, a baby girl who is hungry, tired and screaming in the back seat because I still can't figure out how to run errands, take care of the dog, see friends and get home in time for dinner and a bath before she passes out with tear-streaked cheeks squished against the car seat. At those moments, I close my eyes and tell myself (out loud) that I am not failing at this -- but I usually don't believe it.
This is the terrifying side of motherhood, the underbelly that no one talks about, or at least not in public circles. Sister-to-sister, we share our ugly truths and our deepest fears in our own private confessionals, reserved for those of us who have seen the shadowy side of "perfect mommy." I liken us to shipwrecked survivors, each struggling on our own private islands, waving to each other as we float by or perhaps calling out a word or two of advice that helped us once.
We send our messages-in-a-bottle out to sea, but there is no real help in sight. It's completely up to us to either sink or swim.
Then there is the unconscious side of motherhood, or the other 90 percent of the day, when I am just reacting. I don't have time to consider the bigger picture, to mourn my old boobs or pine for a night out dancing, or to wallow in yesterday's mistakes. I am unshowered and covered with remnants of quinoa/blueberry mush, and I hardly notice because my child won't sit still for more than five seconds. Desperate to walk at only 9 months, she hurls herself into the unknown and bumps her head several times a day. With each blow my confidence as a mom drops: Could I have prevented that? Should I be baby-proofing the whole world? Watching her more closely? I can't even answer my own questions because I am too exhausted to think straight. To be honest, I am so sleep-deprived that I forget really important things, like paying bills and turning off the stove. This short blog has taken me weeks to write.
But I count myself lucky that I have some training for this. I had an early career that prepared me for thinking on my feet and sleeping in short bursts. After years of promoting human rights in areas of armed conflict, those skills alone, honed on the actual battlefield, are helping me survive the unfamiliar landscape of motherhood.
I am doing my best to tread water and stay afloat, but there are many days when I wake up wondering where I'm going to find the strength to keep kicking.
And then there are occasional moments of public shame when I run into a smiling supermom who has somehow lost all of her baby weight, looks like she got eight hours of sleep last night and thinks being a mom is just the greatest job in the world.
"Oh, hi!" she yells loudly across the parking lot. And then, in one quick burst, "Oh my gosh, it's been forever! How are you? Wow, is this your little girl? How do you like being a mom? Don't you just love it?"
I throw out my best fake grin (the one that never touches my eyes) and mutter something about how I think I do love it... I mean, I love her... I mean, yeah I like it... a lot... mostly. Then I change the subject, because no one wants to hear about the hard stuff.
And yet when I talk honestly with fellow moms, the truth always comes out. They too are having a difficult time; they too have lost themselves. Lonely and isolated, they too had no idea it would be this hard. In the past few weeks alone, three other moms have asked me to write about it, to reveal the truth behind the mask we so bravely put on each morning. And I am nothing if not a truth-teller, have risked my life several times over to bring information to light, and I suppose this is no different.
Let me put it into perspective:
I once spent five weeks sleeping in three- to five-hour shifts, barely eating or bathing, while monitoring the whereabouts of 70 human rights activists risking their lives on the ground at the Beijing Olympics, protesting for Tibetan independence. Now after nine months of full-time motherhood, I find myself longing for the personal freedoms I had during that Olympic Campaign.
Before motherhood I had no idea what real sacrifice looked like, which is saying something when you consider that I spent time in Chinese detention, was kidnapped in Sri Lanka and held at gunpoint by rebels in the Congo. From my unique point of view, three sleepless days of interrogation by the Chinese police was much, much easier than this.
As an activist, I got to choose when and where I offered my help and my time. When I felt spent, I would tag-out, taking my turn to rest and recuperate. My life was full of new and exciting experiences, traveling to places few people have seen, making choices and decisions on a whim, exploring, activating, accomplishing big goals. I was the destroyer of routine, determined not to fall asleep at the wheel of life.
But now I reign queen in the land of routine. Cultivating plans weeks in advance, thinking about dinner at 10:30 in the morning, rushing home for a 5:30 bath like the world depended on it. I do it because my daughter needs it, because her world does depend on it. She laughs and flaps her arms with joy when she recognizes people and places; she feels safe and sleeps better when we go through our pre-bedtime ritual. She loves doing the same thing over and over again.
The more I surrender to this merry-go-round existence, the easier the whole parenthood thing becomes -- but the foggier my life becomes.
People used to ask me if I was scared to do the work I do, traveling in and out of war zones, tempting fate. And I would say, "Yeah, of course I'm scared. But I'm more afraid not to do it, to fall asleep and miss my life while doing the same thing everyday just because it's safe."
In her excellent book "Making Space for Children," Virginia Hilliker writes to parents, "Good news: Each moment is new," meaning that as parents we have the opportunity to relate to the world through our children, with fresh eyes, from moment to moment. Regardless of yesterday's missteps, we can start fresh each day, each moment. People spend years in meditation trying to gain this very view of the world.
And this, I'm learning, is the difference.
My fear of routine, of each day resembling the next, is obliterated by the wondrous beginner's mind that my baby exhibits. After months of taking a bath in the same tub, she suddenly discovers the drain and learns that she can pull the plug and become the master of water! This realization manifests as a wide-eyed, two-tooth smile that quickly becomes a raucous laughter that shakes her entire being. Tonight's bath is new.
This is why I fell in love with traveling. Waking up each day in a different place, with new sounds and new tastes, makes you feel alive as the world around you suddenly appears in Technicolor. It is addicting and exciting to surround yourself with the unknown.
I would often experience culture shock upon retuning home to the U.S., falling into a depression at the complete lack of luster I felt in familiar surroundings. I longed to be tested, to grow with each new sight, to expand my understanding of the world and my place in it... to become the master of water again.
With each new achievement, my daughter is teaching me to remember the wonder that surrounds us. The fact that one surface is hard while the other one is squishy is magical, when you really think about it. The very first taste of mango is divine, and flowers can pop up anywhere, even in the middle of concrete fields. And even though from the outside today looks exactly like yesterday, nothing is the same in her eyes. In fact, everything, everyday, is brand new again.
So for now, this is how I will travel. I will get down on all fours and crawl above her, seeing the world from her perspective, finding amazement in a springy doorstop or the sound of Tupperware on tile. I will strive to approach each bath-time with the anticipation of an early explorer diving into uncharted waters.
This has become my meditation, my practice, as a new mom. I hope it will bring some relief to the other not-so-in-love-with-this moms out there, struggling to find joy amidst the mundane. This is the mantra that I chant through the sleep-deprived haze of my days, trying to remain fascinated about what tomorrow will bring:
"Each moment is new... Each moment is new... Each moment is new."
Do you have an ugly truth to share? What strategies do you use to transform routine into awakened mind? Let's start talking about it. Please comment below.
Truthfully,
Kiri Westby
Change-maker/Rule-Breaker/Story-teller
Follow Kiri Westby on Twitter: www.twitter.com/chani007
I am currently working on a project www.peace4parents.com that addresses these very frustrations and questions. I invite anyone interested to visit - it's a work in progress so check back or sign up for the mailing list to stay in touch (once I have the sign up ;).
I'm not interested in promoting a fake sense of peace - we need to be able to talk about this stuff so we can resolve it and experience the truth that each moment is new. I look forward to checking out the book you mentioned also!
As a mother of four who experienced intense frustration - and at times anger - I can vouch for the value of the inherent learning that takes place to make sense of it all and experience peace so you can enjoy your child(ren) and your life! Actually, here's a peek into my journey from anger to peace - maybe it will be a help to others... http://peace4parents.com/me-to-you/ Thanks again.
I just learned today about your mention of Virginia Hilliker's book Making Space for Children in your April 28 blog. The book is just in its third printing -- and I hope people will find their way to it. I think Virginia herself is a very interesting person -- 96 years old and still so bright, with it and full of genuine wisdom. Thanks, Carolyn gimian
This is such an honest and brave narrative about motherhood. I just wanted to highlight that the loneliness and isolation that so many of us moms experience not only needs to be addressed by finding our own internal mantras- “everything is new,” but also by looking at how our society sets us up for the solitude. We do not have systemic support for moms and have lost a true sense of community and the ability to ask for help without feeling like failures. I have said on many occasions that having a baby is not an experience that is meant to happen in solitude. We need partners, friends, grandparents, siblings, and chosen family to step up and show up for us with tuperwares of spaghetti and babysitting offers. Our society no longer is centered around community, but rather places expectations of being 100% in all areas of our life, when it simply is not possible. If we were to re-introduce this notion of community and honor and value the job of raising children, then those feelings of “winging it” and of “not knowing what the hell we are doing,” would not only be easier to handle, but they would diminish substantially as we would have that village to call on for advice and support.
I have an almost-four-month-old at home. I liken motherhood to those old Army ads: "the toughest job you'll ever love." It has been extremely hard but extremely rewarding. I keep reminding myself that he's only this age once, and I need to appreciate each day with him, as he changes and grows every day.
It seems like it's almost a dirty secret that you are having any problems at all with motherhood, and I always appreciate it when someone is willing to speak up and admit not being perfect.
I love hearing stories about it getting easier :) I suppose part of my difficulty is that I'm not a good stay at home mom either and need to get back to work to get some balance! The problem is that my work as always been overseas in conflict ridden parts of the world and it feels unfair to risk my life in the same way now that I'm a mom...but then again, if I don't do what I love and am good at, what kind of example am I setting for my daughter. I would never want her to give up on her passions!
Thanks for commenting, I really appreciate hearing from other moms who have been there.
Kiri
You're not a total weirdo! I think it is because of women like you that the human race continues. Unlike you, I used to proclaim loudly that I was never going to have children and always saw myself in a suit in a boardroom full of men. It is nice to know that even for the moms out there who are fulfilling a dream with motherhood, there are hard days and exhaustion.
Thanks so much for sharing your side of the coin,
Kiri
And I loved every minute of it anyway.
I also remember another friend telling me "Well the first month is hard. Actually the first 3 months are hard. Actually the entire first year is hard." That actually helped me manage my expectations.
My son just turned two and while each phase poses its on challenges, it definitely has gotten easier. In addition to new discoveries there are lots of hugs, kisses, singing and unconditional love. There are also lots of "no", "mine", "I do it"s but the good outweighs the bad.
Like many of your readers, I have a new found appreciation for my own mother and now understand why people choose to live so close to their parents after they have kids. I have also found in talking now with my mother that she had the same doubts and insecurities as a mother that I have. But as she watched both me and my brother grow into adulthood they felt irrelevant.
Thank you for sharing you experience. I'm sure it will help many new and expectant moms.
The more stories like these I hear, the easier this whole thing becomes. So thank you for commenting and reminding me that I am not crazy!
Kiri
This is what I tell myself regarding the hardships of motherhood... that they are only a baby for such a short period of their lives, and I am creating the blueprint for the type of adult they will be. Although there are many challenges from the sleeping, to the routines, to the boredom, to the frustration of someone dropping their spoon for the 20th time, in an instance, this part of both your lives will be over forever.
I think it is important to have realistic expectations of yourself, and accept the fact that life will never the same as it was pre-baby. You never get a day off from being a mother, because you will always think of your child even if you are not physically with them. It is kind of like the baby is a punctuation
mark of life. An exclamation point perhaps and now you are onto the next sentence. It is nice to look back and remember the context, but there is such excitement in the story you are going to develop.
I love the image of our children being punctuation marks on our lives! Some days I long to be free of her, to have a day or even a weekend to myself again...but then when I can finally organize some child care and make a plan to get away for an afternoon, I end up missing her and feeling disoriented, like an untethered balloon just floating aimless. Oh the irony of it all!
I appreciate your taking the time to comment as a fellow HP blogger!
Fan'd and Fav'd,
Kiri
I have friends with two year-olds and hear them saying the same thing over and over again...so I know that's in store for us. REALLY looking forward to the whole school thing :)
Thanks for commenting,
Kiri
Nice to have another mom say that motherhood was not her cup of tea either. Don't get me wrong, I Iove my baby girl and would do anything for her, I just don't want to pretend that I enjoy half of what is required of me these days.
I hear you on the colic too! Glad to hear you got through it, I know I will too!
Kiri
I guess I'm PRAYING for a baby that's at PEACE with me...or should I be praying for ME to be at peace with the baby??? I don't know... either way... I am praying that emotional and mental peace somehow find my baby and I when we finally meet face to face :-)
(she/he just kicked - I'll take it as a "don't worry mommy, you'll do fine!!!")
Sigh.
The comments relating to "forgiving" our own mothers for whatever it is we THOUGHT they did wrong when we were younger and at home were really touching.... indeed, she always said something like "you'll see when you become a mother..." and I never got that............... well, I certainly DO now...
Am I eating right? Are my clothes too tight? Is the TV too loud? Is sleeping on my right side wrong? Will I know how to change the diaper? Is a moses basket better than a arm's reach?
...and I'm still just preggo!!!
Sigh.
I feel you. I was where you are just 9 months ago and thinking the same thoughts. Sounds like you are going to do just fine!!! Just remember the Mantra in my blog, Each Moment Is New!
Kiri
Milestones to hope for: when baby can feed herself from a bowl you provide, when baby can eat people food instead of baby mush, when baby can be left alone for 5 minutes without engaging in recklessly suicidal behavior, and, joy of joys, when baby can use the toilet unassisted (you're years away from that)!!! Mixed blessings include talking and walking -- talking seems like fun until they won't shut up, and once they start walking you'll never stop running.
Good luck, honey, and don't beat yourself up if you need some prescription meds to keep from losing it. And remember: if it were possible to accurately warn people of the horrors of parenthood, our species would have died out long ago. Also, enjoy the baby hugs -- they are priceless.
When I was in the 7th grade I was in the pep squad. Do they even have pep squads any more? My Dad did not get paid until the day before I needed my pep squad uniform. When he got paid, she bought the fabric and stayed up all night cutting and sewing my uniform by hand so it was ready for me to wear to school in the morning.
When my Dad finally left us, Mom had no work skills. She got a job as a chicken plucker (no really!) at a local factory walking to work rain or shine because Dad took the car with him when he left. And I was ashamed for my friends to know that she worked this backbreaking job.
Shortly thereafter, I ran away from home at 15 and never went back.
This past April 5th marked 30 years since breast cancer took her. Luckily, I spent the last few weeks of her life by her side and got to tell her that I understood the choices she made and appreciated all she had done for us. My belated appreciation was pitifully inadequate compared to her lifelong sacrifices.
Thanks so much for sharing your story with me and other readers!!!
Kiri
She learned to drive only because she knew she would have to drive me to school when my Dad was gone with the Military.
She NEVER bought clothes for herself. She wore $3 white tennis shoes bought at the grocery store and thrift store clothes so she could afford to buy us winter coats and shoes.
She came up with $10 somehow to buy 3 school dresses from Montgomery Ward. I was mortified because all 3 of the dresses were exactly alike. But she washed our clothes by hand and hung them out to dry so we were always clean.
When my Dad was gone with the Military for a long time and we were broke, broke, broke, somehow she came up with $35 and bought this hideous car that had these huge fins and was painted this day-glo orange. Again I was so mortified! I would lay down in the back seat so no one would see me.
To be continued...