Things That Are Hard To Say

It's not for the faint-of-heart, this job, Motherhood.

You all know it, though, don't you?  Most of you, anyway?  If I'm honest about it, I'll tell you that this job has almost turned me inside out.  Repeatedly.

The literal blood and gore of delivery can't hold a candle to the metaphorical, spiritual and emotional blood and guts that it takes to muscle through some of these Mothering occasions.  At least for me.

Much like a new workout creates soreness in muscles that you never knew you had, Motherhood has made me doubt myself in ways that I never knew were even open to doubt.  I've doubted my own judgment too many times to count.  I've doubted my own instincts.  I've doubted my own intentions, my own feelings, my own thoughts and my own words.

For someone accustomed to navigating through life on listening to her 'inner voice' that kind of self-doubt is more than uncomfortable.  It can feel paralyzing.  Like I can't make the smallest of decisions.  And when I do manage to make a decision, the lack of confidence in my own conviction can leave me unhinged and swinging--movable at the least bit of resistance or counter-balance. 

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Although this job requires a mountain of effort, a boatload of patience, a heaping portion of selflessness, it is mostly measured out, at least early on, in minutes.  In tiny increments.  In endless repetition.  In sometimes messy, germy minutia.  I know how this sounds, trust me.  It's not an 'I'm-so -bored-yawn-and-I'm-wasting-my-college-education-'just'-being-home-with-my-baby' thing.  I don't  believe that my time would be better spent working more hours.  I'm saying--it's an awesome responsibility.  A hefty charge.  But the reality of Mothering as a verb is often--how do I say it?  Not pretty.  Not exciting.  Not fun.  It can be gritty.  It can be ugly.  It can be scary.

The neediness and the smallness and the relentlessness of an infant are spectacular things to behold.  Being The Mother, AKA The One Most Responsible for such a being has, at times, pushed me to the edge, to the edge of the cliff where rational thought meets the-running-naked-kind-of-crazy insanity.  Well, okay.  Not quite the running-naked kind.  But the door-slamming-cursing-at-an-infant-and- your-husband-while-crying-and-hating-yourself-in-the-middle-of-the-night-kind. I have teetered there, on the edge of that cliff, looking down and swooning at the view.  Trying to keep from totally losing my grip and throwing myself into the abyss.  Shocked and appalled at my reactions.  Ashamed and feeling like a failure.  That's a pretty dramatic way to put it, I know.  But one of the biggest shocks of new motherhood (for me) was how angry I got.  At a baby.  How irrationally enraged I became when she would/n't [fill in the blank.]  Early on, the constant mothering (to an inconsolable infant, mind) felt oppressive.  And I felt positively trapped.  And guilty.  For a woman who believes that people always have a choice in life, including a choice about how to see things, feeling trapped is a very rare occasion.  And it felt dramatic.  And sucky.

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It's not like I went in unprepared or without thought.  I'm old enough, after all.  I've watched countless times from the sidelines.  I have known many, many children very, very well.  I also have always known myself well enough to realize that the 'baby stage' was never going to be my favorite.  I'd heard mothers of children of all ages and stages talking ceaselessly about the latest difficult thing that was happening with their kids with the same breath with which they were (not so subtly) urging me to reproduce.  I would reply, 'Listen to you complaining! This is the club that you're so hot for me to join?'  They would inevitably laugh and cough up some canned phrases about the beauty and the love blah blah. 

If I continue to be honest, though, I'll tell you that the fear of the baby-stage was one of the things that delayed my acceptance of this postion.  I took my lack of a feverish longing for a baby as proof that I didn't have a 'maternal instinct,' that I wasn't cut out for this job, that I didn't have what it takes.  I think, though, in retrospect (after much therapy), that I was afraid.  I was afraid that I would continue some unhealthy patterns from my own childhood.  Afraid that I would be too attached.  Afraid that I wouldn't be able to attach.

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Giving birth, bringing a new life into the world, (much like Death and watching someone you love leave the world) teaches you things about yourself.  I know now that you can complain about your child and urge a friend to have one at the same time without it being an actual contradiction.  There were and are so many unexpected joys to go with the sorrows, so many highs for these lows, so much light for the dark.  And it will work itself out.  I know that in my heart of hearts.  The more time I have in, the more I trust myself.  As my daughter grows and reaches out and toward me and out and away from me, I surge with love, with pride and with longing.  As the days pass and patterns emerge, disappear and emerge again, I immerse myself in the rhythm of this life, of the workings of this job.  Steeping myself in 'The What It Takes' and coming out more and more confident.

The starkness of the deep, dark, raw feelings--the self-doubt and the helplessness and the failure and the fear--the starkness ebbs, I'm finding.  And although it may fade entirely (?) it has left an impression.  Like a stabbing flash of light that you can still see on the insides of your eyelids.

Long after you've shut them tight.

Comments

[bianca bean]

holy crap. You just expressed everything that is in my brain. I found you by searching for "baby stage is hard", looking for someone who felt the same as me. Every time I express how the baby stage has been challenging as hell for me and I am not sure I am cut out for it, all I get is "but it is so precious and beautiful!" Thanks for writing this.

[mimi]

I agree with everything. Yes, yes, and yes. And me too. And however else I can say: perfectly put.

[andrea]

My twins are 6.5 months old and I too have been stunned by the anger I have felt towards such tiny creatures. Usually when they won't go to sleep or won't stop crying. I've shed more tears this past six-and-a-bit months than I think I ever have - well, I suppose, since I was a baby myself.
Then there is, of course, the immense love. But all in all it's bloody hard work and I don't think enough mothers talk about how difficult it can be. Everyone just seems to want to be seen to be coping well - the new mothers I know, at least. It can make you feel quite isolated when you feel you're not coping.
Big kudos to you for writing such an honest, heartfelt post.

[Jenna]

Beautiful post.

May I say too that with the Littlest New Girl turning 6 months- you are now leaving what was the hardest, most draining, most difficult time for me (uh, SO FAR.).

Onward and upward!

[Jo]

Isn't this the truest paradox of it all? There is so much hope and love and expectation, and then there is everything you describe...so eloquently. Great post. I feel it 100%. What has comforted me since having my first kiddo, with the other two, is that things do even out. New challenges present, of course. But the general tug-and-pull of all this exhaustion and the monotony of it when they are quite young gets much better around age 1. It is awesome, all of it. And I often pine for my babies as snuggly, sleepy, drunk newborn babes. But then one of them tells me, in such big words, how "Yook! A big Twuck over there!" and I think, "Man, this is cool." It's a real trip, parenting. Again, great post NG.

[Arkie Mama]

Beautiful post.

I was the first of my friends to have a baby. (I was 33.) I remember feeling so lonely because no one understood the frustration and insecurity and utter exhaustion I was describing.

[slouching mom]

lovely, honest post.

[Swistle]

I wonder if it's easier to have kids younger. I had my first at 25, and although definitely there were ups and downs, there was less of the long dark teatime of the soul that you describe. On the other hand, I think it also depends a TON on the type of baby. None of mine have been colicky, or all-night screamers, and when I've had even ONE night where one of the kids DOES pull something like that, I feel like leaping off a cliff. So actually, it's probably THAT more than it's maternal age. (Though being younger and dumber probably helps too.)

[BOSSY]

Mountains and Boats - you're right, Bossy is exhausted just reading about how hard it is.

[mamatulip]

Sorry for the comment twice over. TypePad hates me, this I know.

[mamatulip]

You said better than I ever could.

Great post.

[mamatulip]

You said better than I ever could.

Great post.

[Jen]

You've summed it all up beautifully.

Being a Mother can be such an emotional roller coaster.

[Andrea]

Beautiful. And so true.

[Manic Mommy]

So good.

And no, five years later, it hasn't gotten any easier; just different.

But I'm glad you joined the club.

[Natalie]

Holy cow that was good. I have so many thoughts that want to come spilling out, but I can't seem to form them into anything coherent.

[Jennifer]

Such an honest, heartfelt post. I'm nodding in agreement to all of it.

[Redneck Mommy]

Cue the applause. For this post deserves it.

[mothergoosemouse]

Somebody had better award you a Perfect Post for this one. Because that's exactly what it is.

[Sarah]

I actually experienced this more the second time around than I did the first. My son's temperment was just so much more fussy at first than my daughter's had been, and I was really overwhelmed and worried that I wasn't bonding enough with him, etc. So I think it really just depends on the baby a lot how early motherhood treats you. Those people who think little babies are so wonderful probably just lucked out and got easy babies like I did the first time!

[whimsy]

Wow. I've just got to add a thank you for this post. The sentiments you express are beautiful, as are the words you chose to express them. Thank you for sharing this.

[jen]

I am expecting any day now. I will bookmark this post, and I know I will refer to it often - and it will be a huge comfort. For that, thank you.

[Clink]

Thank you, that is exactly what I needed to read today. Being at the begining of this journey this is the kind of thing that keeps reminding me how much it will change. That it will turn me inside out and back again.

[Don Mills Diva]

Beautiful post. So eloquent and so very very true.

[Don Mills Diva]

What a beautiful post. So eloquent and so very very true.