The Untold Truths of Motherhood
He’s perfect. Of course I would say that, I’m his mother, and it’s an unspoken rule that you are supposed to claim that your children are perfect. I’m not entirely lying either, I really do love every piece of my sons.
But never would I have imagined that a 25 pound tiny human could drive me as crazy as he does. I know he doesn’t try to, and that just makes it so much worse. Don’t I love him? Of course I do. Then why does he make me feel this way?
Even before birth, mothers are bombarded with every emotion ever felt all at once. After two and a half years, I truly and honestly thought I would have the hang of this. I really don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t.
Questions are natural, and my day is usually accompanied by a string of them. Is he eating enough? Are those educational videos actually rotting his brain? Does he say enough words? Is this milk secretly rotting his teeth? Does this small fever actually mean that he’s dying???
I swear, my husband keeps me grounded. If he was as emotional and irrational as me, I’m pretty sure life would fall apart. And whether he’s actually so calm, or just pretending to be that way for my sake, I greatly appreciate it.
I would feel super hypocritical giving any sort of advice to mothers when my journey is so new. I have a feeling it will be a long long time until I feel comfortable enough to offer any words of wisdom.
But if you feel the way that I do, like you have no clue what you’re doing, then I can offer support, because I am right there with you.
To those mothers whose children know all their colors at 18 months, I don’t know how you do it. At that age my son said apple, and I think that’s really neat.
Isn’t it crazy how we can be dying for a break, but as soon as we drop them off for a sleepover we miss them like crazy? It’s really unfair to my husband how I spend our entire date night missing my child, though I swear I miss my husband when he’s gone too, he just doesn’t get to see that.
I always love hearing about how other mothers are struggling, not because I take joy in their strife but because it lets me know that I’m not alone. Motherhood is rough. It’s beautiful, but rough. Motherhood is loving a small person so crazy much, while at the same time trying to ignore that tantrum for as long as possible. It’s wishing they wouldn’t climb all over you but missing their cuddles when they are away.
I thought motherhood would be easier, but I’m glad it’s not. I wouldn’t feel as accomplished if I didn’t have to work at this each and every day. It’s a struggle, but he is so worth it. Keep up the fight, mothers. We are all on this crazy ride together.