I know…I used a crazy title to grab your attention. But this post really does discuss one of the little-talked-about truths of motherhood. Everyone goes on and on about how joyous it is to be a mother. You are celebrated throughout your entire pregnancy, all in anticipation of the little bundle coming your way. A child who will take all of your energy, cause you decades of countless sleepless nights for a plethora of reasons, a child who will test your limits and boundaries, who will make you take the closest look at yourself that you’ve ever taken…he or she will fill you with so much joy you want to burst and in the next moment make you walk the line between reality and clinical insanity. You will do breathing exercises to learn how to lower your blood pressure and stay calm without blowing a gasket. You will say and do things you’ve regretted like never before…that one night stand in college that you just couldn’t let go? Well…that’s got NOTHING on the guilt trips and regret you’ll have as a mama. This child will steal your heart, teach you about people, and show you life. He/she will make you angrier than any other human being ever has…and you’ll learn a new capacity for forgiveness that you never knew existed within you. You’ll feel happiness, joy, pride, fear, worry, sadness, stillness, craziness, love, hope, hopelessness, anger, embarrassment, confusion, faith, despair, complete fulfillment, loneliness, heartache…and grief. Yes, grief. And those last two–heartache and grief–are the two I want to talk about today.
Do you remember what everyone said when you were pregnant? So many people say so many silly things. I had some doozies said to me! “WOW…it must be twins! Are you SURE it’s not twins?!” (Um…yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d know if I was carrying twins but I’ll double check at my next ultrasound, thanks.) I won’t say who, but a family member once arrived at my door and as I opened it she said “Ooooo…you’re so fat!” (I’m pretty sure the PC term here is PREGNANT…but, again…I thank you.) I used to think “what is wrong with these people?!” And most of them were moms! I would say to my husband “how can they forget what all of this is like?! Do they not remember being pregnant!? She has THREE children…how can she be so out of touch?!” And then there are the things people say or the way they look at you when you’ve got toddlers…one time I firmly told my toddler he wasn’t getting a cookie and the Over 65 Knitting Club at the coffee shop nearly called the authorities on me with their ice cold glances. Never mind the fact that he threw a 25 minute tantrum over his socks that morning, screamed all the way to music class, smacked his brother when he wanted the same toy, and the only reason I’m in this coffee shop is to get that shot of caffeine I’m so desperately needing because my baby is teething and I only slept 2 hours last night.
Well, as my kiddos morph from cute little babies to even cuter toddlers to big kids….I’m starting to get it. It’s not so much that people forget or are out of touch. I truly believe that most moms are just in a constant state of heartache and grieving. I think moms choose not to forget, but to “blur” a lot of their precious memories because it is too painful to really–I mean REALLY–go back there mentally and emotionally. Some things become repressed. And others transform into memories much different than actual events and moments as a means of emotional survival. It’s heartbreaking, really. And no one ever talks about this. No one tells you this BEFORE you become a mom. I mean, who would feel comfortable saying to a newly pregnant friend or relative, “Oh! Congratulations! It’s TRULY wonderful and such a blessing…but hold onto your hat, lady, because you are about to experience loss and heartache like you didn’t even know possible.” Yeah…no one is going to say that. That’s why we’ve invented the luke-warm reply “Enjoy it! It goes by way too fast!” To that I say:
#1–yes it does.
#2–this is code for “I die a little bit inside each day that my child gets older but I’m going to go buy a nice handbag now instead of allowing all those emotions to smother me”
Sorry, mamas, but you know I’m right! No one told you that you’d cry the last time you gave a midnight breastfeed to the baby who’s been preventing you from sleeping for a year. No one said you’d have a moment when you realize your breasts will never EVER again be the same and you didn’t even get to say goodbye to them because you didn’t know they were on their way out! Same with the bikini body! No one said you would feel the loss of your “old life” and its freedoms and connections even though you are happier than ever holding your new little person. No one warned you that one day you’d weep because you realize that your cuddle bunny hasn’t asked you to snuggle in over a month. Never in your life could you imagine that you’d miss the familiar call from the potty “Mama! I’m done!” Nobody says “I remember bawling my eyes out the first time I took X to pre-school.” Mommies talk about these things, sure…but AS they’re happening. With each other. In grief. There’s absolutely zero preparation. Who knew you’d be sniffling at magazine ads and using an entire box of tissues for television commercials? How many of you give a deep sigh of relief when your toddler asks for uppy because you’re just counting down the days until he doesn’t want you like that anymore? Who squeezes those chubby, sticky little hands and prays for one more day’s worth of that closeness before the child is embarrassed by your affection? No one tells you a tiny piece of you will crumble the day your child walks into a drop-off class without you. My kids are 4, almost 3, and 1 and I sit and cry at night because I’m worried they won’t visit me once they’re married with their own families!
It’s absolutely heart-wrenching being a mom. And it’s beautiful, too. I expected snuggles and giggles and stories and playgrounds and the sweetest hugs I’ve ever felt. I knew there’d be good days and tough days and yelling and screaming and crying and “I’m sorry” and tantrums and boo-boos. I knew I wouldn’t sleep for a decade. I knew my energy would be totally zapped for a long time. I knew it would all go by too fast…but I didn’t expect the constant stream of grieving. I grieved when I stopped breast feeding. I grieved when they went to preschool. I grieved when I got pregnant with my second and realized it would never again be just me and my first. I wondered how I would love them both with my whole heart. I grieved when my first son outgrew his baby clothes. And then when the second did…and now that the third is. I grieve a little bit every time I buy a bigger size for my oldest. I grieved when my son came home from school asking “Mama, what’s a gun?” I grieved when family members didn’t come through for my kids. I grieved when their friends made them cry. As much as I needed and wanted to sleep, I grieved when they stopped sleeping right next to me in my bed and I couldn’t feel their breath on my skin. Perhaps the deepest grief I’ve felt so far is the finality of having my third (and, presumably, final) son. I grieved for not getting my girl. I grieved for not having the birth I wanted. I grieved for it not being MY choice to be done. I grieved for all that time I lost with my baby when he was in NICU and I was home with the rest of our family. I grieved for his brothers, who didn’t get to meet him until he was 41 days old. I grieved giving away my maternity clothes and knowing I’d never wear them again. I’ve been grieving giving away his baby clothes and all his gear as he outgrows them–things that all three of my boys needed and used and loved. I remind myself daily that these are just things. But it’s still very tough. I grieve knowing that some day they won’t want to rush home and tell me how their days were. I grieve thinking about times when they’ll be locked in their rooms and I will be a stone’s throw away but they will want nothing to do with me. I grieve knowing that they will someday leave this home that we have all shared for so many years together. That I won’t be able to just walk down the hall and see them in the flesh. Or have a conversation face to face any time I want to. I grieve knowing that they will some day be too busy with school or friends to pick up the phone and check on me. I grieve these things because I know they will happen…as they always do when you allow your children to sprout wings and fly. I should know–I’m a prime example of nearly ALL of these things and now that I’m a mom, I understand what my own mother surely went through. And I’m not even past age four! So I grieve.
And I will continue to grieve…every day, every week, every month…every year. And if you are in the same boat, I just want to say IT’S OK. It sucks. It is part of the process. Of course, the happy moments far outweigh the sad ones. But this is heavy and it’s real. And it’s ok to talk about it. In a way I wish someone had warned me…but in a way I understand that this is something you have to come into on your own.
The other side of this message is that you can’t FOCUS on the grieving. It will literally kill you, in my humble opinion. It will cause you to shrivel into a shell of a person. It will overtake you and drown you. But most importantly…it will cause you to miss the happy moments of your children’s lives. And we don’t want that! For the happy moments…the ones that fill you to the top with pride, love, joy, happiness, excitement, fulfillment, contentment, hope…are the moments to savor. They’re the ones to keep in the ‘ol memory bank. They are the moments to burn into your brain and never let go of. Allow them to linger. Allow them to marinate. Allow them to soak waaaayyyy in. And when you are 45 or 55 or 65 and you see a vibrant, glowing young woman carrying her first child…you will think back on all those wonderful moments, forgetting (or blocking out) the bad ones and the ones that made you ache with grief and you will dreamily say “Awww…enjoy it! It goes by way too fast!” ❤ 🙂
Five Little Duckies 