Some honest, nitty-gritty, lovely, and poignant looks at motherhood today…
First, I very much enjoyed this article about the painfulness many women experience as they transition into motherhood. This may be re-experienced/re-visited with each baby, or perhaps the initial challenge fades into the background of memory, unless you actively acted to preserve it.
…For me, and for many other women, being a new mother is hard. It can be hard in a million different ways: painful physical recovery from a difficult birth, breast-feeding problems, colic, tensions with your partner, sleep problems. It’s also just hard on its own, on top of and in between all these other challenges. As a friend of mine said, “I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t know what ‘hard’ would feel like.” We thought it would be sitcom-style hard—not necessarily with a feel-good resolution at the end of every episode, but at least punctuated by those frequent moments of uplift indicating that, in spite of everything, life really is beautiful, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure it’s like that for some people, but for many of us, it’s not. For many of us, it’s not good hard, as in a “good hard workout”; it’s bad hard, as in, it sometimes feels like something bad is happening to you…
I recognize that many mothers do not have difficult transitions in postpartum, but I certainly did, and the period of time following the birth of my first baby remains fixed in my own memory one of the most pivotal, painful, challenging, and transformative times of my life as a woman. Perhaps it is more fixed, because I did write about it and the rawness and the struggle is preserved in those words from the past. This article reminds me of my own past thoughts:
When I had my first baby, I would see women who were pregnant and feel almost a sense of grief for them—like, just wait, you have NO idea what is coming. I also told my husband more than once: “this is both more wonderful and more HORRIBLE than I ever could have imagined.” The fear of being thought a “bad mom” is SO powerful that it keeps us quiet about many things. I’ve felt more than once that my kids were “torturing” or me or literally trying to crush my spirit/soul. It sounds horrible to type it out, but that is how I feel sometimes! I’ve also written about how it interesting to feel both captivated AND captive. Bonded and also bound. I discovered that there was a whole new section of women’s rights I hadn’t even been aware of prekids–mother’s rights. I do think many, many women have written about this, but when you start out you feel like you’re the only one whose “daring” to mention the ugly side [she'd also mentioned, "why doesn't anyone write about this?" Um, they totally do. A lot]. Start reading “momoirs”—they’re a lifeline! So many good ones out there. I have a big collection of them. Oh, and start reading Brain, Child magazine. The best look at real mothering I’ve ever know.
“The time of danger, what needs to be survived, comes at different times for mothers. For me, it came early — during my [child]‘s infancy.” ––From Sleeping Beauty & The Fairy Prince: A Modern Retelling By Cassie Premo Steele
Ever since my first child was born over nine years ago, I’ve been talking about writing an article about the tension between choices and that whatever it is you’re doing, you can be blamed for the outcome later—i.e. “you let me co-sleep, and now I have lifelong sleep problem” OR, “you didn’t co-sleep and now I have lifelong abandonment issues!”
So, I appreciated this humorous look at how you’re doing everything wrong:
Everybody’s always trying to figure out how to do it right.
What’s “best” for my children? What can I do to raise the healthiest, most well-adjusted kids possible?
How can I do it “right?”
Well I think we should reframe this whole discussion into a simple recognition that we’re doing it all wrong.
Everything we do, it’s wrong.
Every decision is the wrong decision. And I have proof. Check this out.
In a happier tone, I very much enjoyed this sweet post about the end of the breastfeeding relationship:
I’m hoping that buried in the corners of my children’s minds, along with all the other lovely things, there are some memories of breastfeeding that will be there all their lives. As for me, it’s not so much a corner of my mind as an overflowing treasure chest.
I was very grateful for my own breastfeeding relationship last week when we took Alaina in for her dental work under general anesthesia at an outpatient surgery clinic. After it was over, we nursed and nursed and nursed. It was healing and renewing for us both and it meant I didn’t have to worry about her getting enough to eat or drink after being groggy and having a sore mouth. Interestingly, while she was under, we went ahead and had her upper frenulum clipped (I’ve thought for a long time that she had a upper-lip tie) and it has made such a surprising difference in how comfortable it feels to nurse her. I think I had adapted to a low-level of irritation and discomfort throughout the entire two years that I’ve nursed her.