on becoming a mother...
i've only been at it for six weeks now, and i still don't know much, but what i do know is that becoming a mother is a process. it's one of the most interesting, (obviously) life-changing and ultimately rewarding ones ever so far, but it is just that, a process...not a given, not an automatic switch, not the day and night transformation that i grew up thinking it was, and that that in and of itself has been the most surprising thing of all. (not that cleaning radioactive poop, learning how to breastfeed, composing spur of the moment lullabies, learning how to nap on a moment's notice and understanding how to soothe a screaming child aren't all fascinating and surprising, hehe, but you get the idea.)
i don't plan to speak for others, or understand what every woman goes through in their own process, i can only speak for me, for better or for worse. i have learned not to judge myself in doing so (or at least am working on that), in thinking and talking about all this in my head, and i say in my head because i don't think i've actually put all these things into words since lucas was born, so bear with me. and if you can, try not to judge me either.
those first few weeks were hard for me. i won't lie. but they weren't hard because my baby was too demanding (we are very lucky and lucas has slept and nursed well, about every three or four hours from the beginning), but because I was too demanding. i wanted "perfect", i wanted to BE perfect, i wanted to feel elated, euphoric, totally on cloud nine. just like you're supposed to, right?
well, i didn't. i didn't feel all those things, at least not all the time, and i couldn't understand why. it wasn't just baby blues, though i know that had something to do with it. but it was more of a feeling of thinking that things needed to be a certain way and that they weren't feeling or happening that way.
i felt like i had no idea what i was doing with my new baby, the one that is 100% dependent on me. i had read all the books, the websites, taken the courses, listened attentively to the other moms i spoke to, my friends, my family members, and yet i felt completely lost. i didn't feel elated, i felt scared and defensive most of the time. i was certainly happy, grateful, in awe of this new life jerry and i had created, that i had dreamed about and cared for in utero for nine months and was now able to carry in arms, but i felt like i should know how to do it all, know what the answers were, the "right" way to do things, and instead, the uncertainty of it all, the newness, the fear of screwing up, of realizing no matter how much i'd read, it didn't amount to jack, that this was all too new, was overwhelming.
added to that, i felt guilty. guilty for not feeling drunk with love and happiness, guilty for not having had a "natural" birth, guilty for feeling inadequate, guilty for feeling like i secretly wanted my independence back, guilty for feeling like i was treating my husband differently, guilty for feeling like i was actually mourning my now absent belly, and my once independent life, guilty, guilty, guilty. and angry about that guilt. (ah woman...what complicated beasts we are...)
i had a c-section. not the "normal", natural birth i had been hoping, preparing for, imagining for nine months. i didn't go through "real" labor pains (i had twelve hours of contractions but not the searing, life-affirming pain you read about and that i really, secretly wanted as a badge of womanhood, of becoming a mother) and i felt disconnected from the event, felt like i'd missed out, screwed up, given up or done something wrong. i had read about women feeling guilty, mourning the lack of a natural birth for their children after a c-section. i thought it was impossible. too self-involved and certainly not something that would happen to me. it did. i really honestly felt like i had failed. i could rationalize that it was for the best, that it was indeed necessary after twelve hours of contractions and a dropping fetal heart rate. i knew that it didn't matter, that the important part was having my beautiful son in my arms, happy and healthy, but it did matter. that's not what i had envisioned, prepared for, i wasn't that woman. again...i demanded more of myself, of the situation. i wanted perfect.
for the first few days and weeks i felt lost. i didn't feel like myself, my body, my brain. all different. i didn't know what to expect, what to do. breastfeeding wasn't automatic, i didn't understand how to "read" my son's cries, i couldn't figure out if my mood swings, guilt, anger and feelings of disappointment that i just couldn't admit to myself, were hormonal or sure signs of me just being a terrible mother. i felt distanced from my life, from my husband, unsure of how to reconnect.
i was fighting idealized, socially established versions of birth, motherhood, post-partum bodies and minds against my reality. for the life of me i couldn't figure out why no one had ever told me about what actually happened, or was it that i was just living the abnormal?
but then it happened. slowly, slowly i understood that my instincts are indeed good. valid. that reading too much about what to do, how to do it, when things are "supposed" to happen, etc. etc. etc. does do harm. it can be too much information. i understood that i could allow myself to feel what i was feeling and that it too would pass (and has) without it making me a terrible person. ultimately, i started let go of "perfect". against every inch of my character, contrary to a whole lot of other times in my life, i admitted to not knowing, to just taking it one moment at a time, learning as i go and i'm proud to say, it's working. i have a beautiful son who i am totally and head over heels in love with and who though it may sound trite, has in just six short weeks taught me more about me than i could have ever imagined.
so, surprisingly after 32 years i have realized that the only answers are in the moment, and in my instincts. that there is no such thing as perfect. not a perfect birth (those famous birth plans...), not a perfect family, home, or child, but that the strength that comes from living in the moment, forgiving myself my own process and truly becoming a mother is more enlightening than anything i could have ever imagined or tried to hold myself to. i've learned that ultimately although nothing prepares you for the moment you come home from the hospital with that little life in your hands, the one that was previously residing safely, comfortably and relatively easily in your belly, it is the most wonderful, life-changing moment in the whole world if you believe that it is a process and that it is wholly your own.
i don't plan to speak for others, or understand what every woman goes through in their own process, i can only speak for me, for better or for worse. i have learned not to judge myself in doing so (or at least am working on that), in thinking and talking about all this in my head, and i say in my head because i don't think i've actually put all these things into words since lucas was born, so bear with me. and if you can, try not to judge me either.
those first few weeks were hard for me. i won't lie. but they weren't hard because my baby was too demanding (we are very lucky and lucas has slept and nursed well, about every three or four hours from the beginning), but because I was too demanding. i wanted "perfect", i wanted to BE perfect, i wanted to feel elated, euphoric, totally on cloud nine. just like you're supposed to, right?
well, i didn't. i didn't feel all those things, at least not all the time, and i couldn't understand why. it wasn't just baby blues, though i know that had something to do with it. but it was more of a feeling of thinking that things needed to be a certain way and that they weren't feeling or happening that way.
i felt like i had no idea what i was doing with my new baby, the one that is 100% dependent on me. i had read all the books, the websites, taken the courses, listened attentively to the other moms i spoke to, my friends, my family members, and yet i felt completely lost. i didn't feel elated, i felt scared and defensive most of the time. i was certainly happy, grateful, in awe of this new life jerry and i had created, that i had dreamed about and cared for in utero for nine months and was now able to carry in arms, but i felt like i should know how to do it all, know what the answers were, the "right" way to do things, and instead, the uncertainty of it all, the newness, the fear of screwing up, of realizing no matter how much i'd read, it didn't amount to jack, that this was all too new, was overwhelming.
added to that, i felt guilty. guilty for not feeling drunk with love and happiness, guilty for not having had a "natural" birth, guilty for feeling inadequate, guilty for feeling like i secretly wanted my independence back, guilty for feeling like i was treating my husband differently, guilty for feeling like i was actually mourning my now absent belly, and my once independent life, guilty, guilty, guilty. and angry about that guilt. (ah woman...what complicated beasts we are...)
i had a c-section. not the "normal", natural birth i had been hoping, preparing for, imagining for nine months. i didn't go through "real" labor pains (i had twelve hours of contractions but not the searing, life-affirming pain you read about and that i really, secretly wanted as a badge of womanhood, of becoming a mother) and i felt disconnected from the event, felt like i'd missed out, screwed up, given up or done something wrong. i had read about women feeling guilty, mourning the lack of a natural birth for their children after a c-section. i thought it was impossible. too self-involved and certainly not something that would happen to me. it did. i really honestly felt like i had failed. i could rationalize that it was for the best, that it was indeed necessary after twelve hours of contractions and a dropping fetal heart rate. i knew that it didn't matter, that the important part was having my beautiful son in my arms, happy and healthy, but it did matter. that's not what i had envisioned, prepared for, i wasn't that woman. again...i demanded more of myself, of the situation. i wanted perfect.
for the first few days and weeks i felt lost. i didn't feel like myself, my body, my brain. all different. i didn't know what to expect, what to do. breastfeeding wasn't automatic, i didn't understand how to "read" my son's cries, i couldn't figure out if my mood swings, guilt, anger and feelings of disappointment that i just couldn't admit to myself, were hormonal or sure signs of me just being a terrible mother. i felt distanced from my life, from my husband, unsure of how to reconnect.
i was fighting idealized, socially established versions of birth, motherhood, post-partum bodies and minds against my reality. for the life of me i couldn't figure out why no one had ever told me about what actually happened, or was it that i was just living the abnormal?
but then it happened. slowly, slowly i understood that my instincts are indeed good. valid. that reading too much about what to do, how to do it, when things are "supposed" to happen, etc. etc. etc. does do harm. it can be too much information. i understood that i could allow myself to feel what i was feeling and that it too would pass (and has) without it making me a terrible person. ultimately, i started let go of "perfect". against every inch of my character, contrary to a whole lot of other times in my life, i admitted to not knowing, to just taking it one moment at a time, learning as i go and i'm proud to say, it's working. i have a beautiful son who i am totally and head over heels in love with and who though it may sound trite, has in just six short weeks taught me more about me than i could have ever imagined.
so, surprisingly after 32 years i have realized that the only answers are in the moment, and in my instincts. that there is no such thing as perfect. not a perfect birth (those famous birth plans...), not a perfect family, home, or child, but that the strength that comes from living in the moment, forgiving myself my own process and truly becoming a mother is more enlightening than anything i could have ever imagined or tried to hold myself to. i've learned that ultimately although nothing prepares you for the moment you come home from the hospital with that little life in your hands, the one that was previously residing safely, comfortably and relatively easily in your belly, it is the most wonderful, life-changing moment in the whole world if you believe that it is a process and that it is wholly your own.
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