I believe that there are some things I need to say (before I, too, forget the bad parts) and I don't think it is fair that these things aren't more commonly discussed.
First, the pain of labor really does take your breath away, but we are stronger than we think. However, trumping all that is the ridiculousness of recovery. When that epidural (should you choose to have one) wears off, the reality sinks in. You have a major injury from which you will need to recover. Be it C-section or vaginal delivery, your body is aching. I felt everything for the first week, each time I shifted positions. My back felt bruised from the epidural. My legs were still puffy and swollen. I am not even going to discuss the process of going to the bathroom (you don't appreciate mere toilet paper and public restrooms until you realize you can't leave the house without your peri bottle and you can't pee without first prepping by filling said bottle). TAKE THE NUMBING SPRAY FROM THE HOSPITAL.
Next, and this is what I am really writing this for, is the loss of self becoming a mother causes. I had spent 32 years forming my identity, developing my career, and becoming the individual I felt was truly "me". I just settled into my identity as a wife and teacher, and then that was suddenly swept out from under me as I had to readjust to motherhood. I kind of resent this.
I loved my life as a teacher. I felt like I had complete control of my own destiny and day. Becoming a mother took away that sense of accomplishment and security that I had worked long and hard to build. I have moments where I just want to be stressed out by grading once more. To have my only worry be about what outfit I am going to wear tomorrow. I want to run errands alone, and in half the time. Upon realizing that nothing would ever be "easy" again, I had a breakdown because I wasn't immediately living up to my own idealistic image of a mother. I was able to juggle so much before. I used to rock multi-tasking and let my perfectionistic personality take over on a sort of auto-pilot whenever I needed to get stuff done fast and efficiently (usually because it was last minute).
It. Is. Hard.
To say that life has changed is a vast understatement. It is so much more than the physical schedule and routine changes. It is the mental adjustment of the roles we must fill. It is very nearly like losing a good friend or a loved one. I believe there must be a time to allow for some mourning. I am not even close to achieving the balance of my time between my new roles. And forget about "me" time. That no longer exists. The only quiet and peaceful moments I get are still filled with little coos and gasps (which are cute, but still not "me" time). 3:00 a.m. feedings are an escape in which I can just be with my thoughts, but my thoughts now revolve around feeding times, packing bags, and planning for a number of possible mini disasters that may occur in a day.
So, when other women and mothers, from friends to complete strangers, say to me "Oh, don't you just LOVE it [being a mother]" and I get a nasty scowl on my face, it isn't because I am not appreciative of their enthusiasm and good-will. It is because I know that some of them (if not all) are really lying. No, I don't always LOVE it, ok?! I wish I could say that it always feels like I am tripping on happy gas, but most of the time I am just trying to stay afloat in a sea of "what ifs" and guilt that I am not swooning over poopie diapers and lack of sleep.
So there, I've said it. I could tell you all until I am blue in the face to be prepared, but it is impossible to know how you'll feel until you are in it full-force. Until then, here's to my former self! I can only hope that this new identity one day will be remembered as fondly as I now recall my past 9 years as "teacher-wife-carefree-young-eager-enthusiastic-idealistic-fun" Erica.
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| Oh, solitude. Will I ever greet thee again? |
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