“Motherhood doesn’t change me,” I remember saying, unintentionally smugly, as I ran my hand over my glistening belly when I was pregnant with my first child. I felt beautiful and strong, and the morning sickness was just a temporary limitation in my life as an avid triathlete and surfer.
Somehow I was convinced that I had the key, the mysterious alchemy of ambition, a supportive partner, and a truly amazing baby carrier. I mean, I don’t lose myself in being a mother.
Many of us are trying hard not to let motherhood slip away. Of course, many of us are in less-than-ideal maternity leave and parenting situations, and whether we like it or not, we’re drawn back to our pre-baby reality. But we’ve also heard stories about celebrity moms hitting the gym to achieve their pre-mom physiques. We talk about striving for a “new normal,” but for many of us it looks a lot like the old normal. We secretly, or not-so-secretly, applaud the women who wander around farmers markets with babies that still look wet behind the ears. Women who admit to losing themselves in motherhood are the targets of pitying looks, life-hacking life coaches, and motivational Pinterest memes.
To me, all of this makes our culture believe that motherhood, one of the least valued roles a woman can play in our society, should be denied at all costs. seems to be saying. It should never define a woman.
Should we do that?
Losing myself in motherhood
Over the past 15 years of working as a doula, I’ve seen the behind-the-scenes truths of the lives of thousands of new mothers. And I would like to say that it is often women who seem to pick up where they left off. Before giving birth to a baby, which is secretly the most difficult thing to do. Too often, they cling desperately to the behaviors of their pre-motherhood lives, fighting through fatigue and the demands of breastfeeding.
And I understand. Because this was me too.
But the truth is that motherhood changes you.
You will lose yourself in motherhood.
Before you blow into a paper bag, let me also say this.
Create a whole new human being in your own body, give birth to it, feed it with your breasts probably every few hours throughout the day, and spend the next 18 years needing you in the most primitive way known as a mammal. I will do it. Many years change you.
You will lose yourself in motherhood.
And while that may seem scary to you right now, let me tell you the next part, the part we all keep forgetting: You’ll find a whole new person.
I feel like saying it again.
You will lose yourself in motherhood.
and:
You’ll find a whole new person.
You may find a woman whose body performs miracles every day. You will realize the paradox of knowing this, but also learning that your body is becoming less socially acceptable in the process. Then you may find a way to respect your skin more deeply than ever before.
You will feel a breathtaking sense of empathy for your baby and perhaps the world. You will find that your intuition and knowledge guide you, like a compass somewhere in your newly expanded mind, when it comes to your children and perhaps other things as well.
You will find that your intuition and knowledge guide you, like a compass somewhere in your newly expanded mind, when it comes to your children and perhaps other things as well.
You’ll find other female executives who get it. Their messy buns and Lego-strewn floors will look a lot like yours, and you’ll find smiles and understanding glances to ease the chaos of the grocery store.
You will find a new understanding of your mother and the mothers before her.
You might find a way to slow it down. When you’re caring for a child, you find that their needs have been narrowed down to the basics: sleep, water, food, repeat. Everything else is lost. Because it often has to be, and sometimes everything underneath it may be free.
You may find yourself setting entirely new priorities in your life, laser-identifying career paths, people, or ways of spending your time that no longer feel worthy of more fragmented energy and attention. I don’t know.
Maybe so.
But before that, you have to forget about motherhood.
That is, you have to surrender to what motherhood shows you.
What’s on the other side?
What about me? I’m not really interested in competing in triathlons anymore, and now, 12 years after becoming a mother, I’m thinking about getting back into surfing. I take a shower almost every day, and instead of reheating it or choking on it cold, I drink hot coffee and chant the motherly mantra, “No, really, it’s iced coffee!” Very good! ”
Trust me, all of this took much longer than I was comfortable with. but also? I quit a job I hated and started my own business. I started writing poetry again. I found a deep sense of permission in letting go of parts of myself that motherhood had rendered meaningless, impossible, or at least not now.
I’m starting to believe that even if it didn’t happen on my timeline, it will eventually come back into my life after becoming a mother with a force that seems almost gravitational. . That will never happen. And ever since I brought these two little humans to earth, I have grown to respect the woman I have become. It’s a tribute to myself, all mothers now, and mothers before me.
Ever since I brought these two little humans to earth, I have grown to respect this woman. It’s a tribute to myself, all mothers now, and mothers before me.
So, Mom, if you’re feeling lost about motherhood, let me remind you, it’s okay. It’s okay. This is normal. You should feel like a different person. Finding yourself as a mother can take time and be uncomfortable. Discovering the woman you are becoming is like following the footsteps of a wild animal in the forest. Walk quietly, listen closely, and be patient. she is waiting for you
But please cry first.
“There can be no growth without sadness.”
This is one of my favorite things to say to the new moms I work with. This is an uncomfortable fact woven into the fabric of what it means to be a mother. Because in order to truly step into a new identity in our lives, we often have to leave behind our cherished previous identities.
The important thing about grief and loss is that they chart their own course. And, as already mentioned, grief really, really wants to be felt and acknowledged. Imagine your grief as being like your little child. It’s like my own little child. The sadness you may be feeling over so many changes happening in your life right now wants to be acknowledged and wrapped up in a warm embrace. Of acceptance.
And amazingly, when you’re finally able to accept the deeply complex and by no means monotonous joys of motherhood, its edges begin to soften and slowly melt away.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s been 12 years since I became a mother, but there are still days when I want to go to the bathroom by myself. And this brings me to the most important nuance about feeling sadness among all the joys of being a mother, and within the joys of being a mother. When this transition feels difficult and you long for the days when life felt a little easier or just different, it involves a healthy dose of self-compassion. With compassion, you can say to yourself, honey, I know. Those old days were truly wonderful. It’s already over, but it was important to experience it. What happens next?
What happens next? Trust me, from first-hand experience, trying to force yourself to “snap out of it” and get back to normal doesn’t help your innate, complete and caring state. We know that we cannot evolve into mothers, and the kind of mothers that humans could become.
Have self-compassion and respect your emotions
Although you are feeling sadness and grief and many complexities right now, remember that there is great potential in all of this. By truly experiencing this process of letting go and letting go of the pre-maternal parts of yourself that no longer fit your new life, you are no longer living in or longing for a life that is no longer yours. You can move on.
Think of this as matrescence, a giant license to feel all the emotions, even the worst, that come with embarking on motherhood.
In some cases, a small ritual can help honor your grief. It’s like a way to validate and accept your grieving little one in a meaningful and symbolic way. For example, you can take a piece of paper and write down what makes you feel sad or what needs release and surrender and throw it into the fire. Or you can write these things on a rock and throw it into the sea. When we involve our senses and body in a ritual, the heat and smells emitted by a fire, for example, create visceral memories associated with the idea of letting go, reinforcing that intention in our brains and keeping it alive. Masu. within your very cells.
Dear Mama, it is okay to feel sad during this time of joy. It’s okay to long for the days when you can sit quietly after dark and watch the world outside your home. It’s okay to wish there was a day when you weren’t a mother at all. It’s okay if you wake up seven years from now and remember your life before becoming a mother and have a little sadness in your heart. These don’t make you a bad mother. It makes you human. And in fact, it makes you a person who loves your baby’s life and is on a path to creating a life that encompasses your great love for your baby. Think of this as matrescence, a giant license to feel all the emotions, even the worst, that come with embarking on motherhood. Think of this as a license to voice your feelings out loud to someone who will treat you and your feelings with respect and respect.
