I’ve been a mother since the ripe young age of 18. I’ve frequently stood out as the youngest mom in the room, and now, with my 4-year-old, Vivi, I’m often (very often) the oldest mom in the room with the youngest child. I love being a mom to both my kids*. It’s an incredible honor to be a mother, let’s just say that right off the bat. And to those who desire and yearn to be a mother but aren’t able to for any number of reasons, let’s acknowledge the pain in that too—I hope this essay doesn’t strike you as irreverent or insulting, it certainly isn’t meant to. For now, I just want to riff for a moment about something else.
Here’s the down and dirty of it: parenting demands everything of a mother** while simultaneously requiring that we don’t deplete ourselves past capacity so that we can keep mothering; it’s a knife edge balance I often get wrong.
Mothers all too often face inferred guilt and outright shaming if we hold outside-the-home jobs, and if we don’t—believe me, I’ve been in both uncomfortable worlds (“Oh, your poor child, I bet they miss you terribly while you’re at work…don’t you worry about their ________? When I was a young mother…” OR “Oh, you don’t work?” Haaaaahhaaaaaaaa…wry angry laughter followed by nearly irrepressible urge to stab the querier).
Unless it’s presented as a shrugging what-can-ya-do joke, we get shamed and shut up ASAP if we mention any aspect the toll mothering often takes. Mothers (still) are expected in general to be selfless, perky, tireless, humble and sweet. Oh, and cute. And sew matching outfits for our families (or at least purchase and wrangle the fam into them—say cheese! We gotta post this!), AND prepare the healthiest meals, and remember to schedule photo shoots of the whole family at appropriate intervals, and host family gatherings gracefully and beautifully, and on and on and on, all with a very white-toothed smile (regular dental appointments on the calendar!), perfectly manicured nails and lash extensions.
Gah.
Mothering, at least in my experience, as wonderful as it can be, sometimes engenders anger, despair, regret, sadness and everything in between (yes, in addition to the joy, laughter and fulfillment we’re allowed to talk about). Two sides of the same coin. But bring up the shadow side in most company, including other mothers (if ye olde inner shamer will let it slip out at all) and watch your head roll off the chopping block of shame. It’s some kind of sacrilegious sin to acknowledge that mothering is a full-out, full-on, turn-your-life-upside down and inside out kind of thing—and not always in a positive-feeling way.
Granted, this shadow side also allows (haha, no. REQUIRES) us to deepen, grow and stretch as humans, but in the moment? Oh man. Sometimes it’s just the roughest of roughs. I feel like this is some kind of old worn out comedy bit, but: What other job wakes you up on the hour every hour month after month and in some cases, year after year? Or drives you to play chipperly with Peppa Pig figures as you attempt to prop your eyelids up after those weeks, months or years of broken sleep? What employer would display the sadistic nerve to require their employee (also telling her everyone else is doing this job easily and gracefully while looking immaculate) to trade her creative drive (and sometimes sex drive) and free time for the endless minutia parenting exacts? If you leave your career you’re bad. If you keep working, you’re bad too. If you leave and go back, enjoy trying to catch up (if that matters to you) with your non-parent co-workers. If you don’t go back to something you enjoyed, how’s that “what if?” topic treatin’ ya? (Actually, how’s that treatin’ ya no matter what choice you made?). If you keep working, enjoy attempting to do the same quality job everyone else is doing with the added chaos of sleep deprivation, giantly degraded self-care of every ilk, and likely, guilt. Just sayin’.
It’s not always the bees knees, moms.
Caring for a developing body and mind is rewarding and wonderful, and also…operating at the level of a 3-month-old is often decapitatingly dull and boring and the most difficult grind you’ve ever experienced, especially on a healthy dose of long-term sleep deprivation.
Mothers are subject to the Madonna Syndrome (the mother, not the singer, but also, maybe the singer-as-mother), internalizing the social pressure to be perfect, to look perfect, be endlessly kind and giving and to never ever mention the difficult, gut wrenching, heart breaking, sobbing-at-3-a.m. aspects of parenting as a woman** in this day and age.
We could go into all of the amazing parts of parenting, and that should be equally celebrated of course, but today, I want to acknowledge the underbelly of it all. Mothers, you’ve been through some shit. 100. Sure, you’ll likely come out of it stronger and wiser, but while you’re in it, it’s sometimes Hell, even while, yeah yeah, it’s Heaven at the same time. It all just is. Like all of Life in this form.
Happy Mother’s Day, my friends.
*Although my son, at 33, doesn’t need much/any mothering anymore. We also managed some parenting of each other as he was growing up and he easily gives me as much advice as I do him at this point. Mostly though now, we’re just friends and co-commiserating parents of 4-year-olds.
**We’re just talking about mothers today, because it’s Mother’s Day, but we could include parents of all genders and identities here. Although I must add that dads, because they’re men, just have it different. They just do. And single mothers? Don’t even get me started…
S000000000000000 TrUe, ChriSTY!
i AppreCiATe Y0Ur HeART~FeLT ShArinGsSs!!
***3*** CheersSs!!! : )
~WiLL0w~
Thank you so much!!!!!! <3