Memoirs of Motherhood, Mental Health, and the Magic in the Mess. ♡
I can’t pretend for a single second to know what the fresh hell I’m doing as a mom…
…but when a kid lets both parents laze around on the living room floor for three hours (with their heads buried in books) as he very contently plays and explores on his own all around them, happy as a clam?
I want to then believe I’m at least doing something right.
(Now, have a photo of him intensely playing with my hair-tie like it was the absolute greatest thing since sliced bread, lol.)
The interesting thing about those who suffer from post-partum anxiety (which I can probably just call anxiety at this point considering that I’m now 15 months PP) is this: one’s absolute lack of staying in the present. And by interesting, I mean freakin’ terrible.
My kid was super sick over the weekend. Like, all I want to do all day long is lay on your body please don’t move, OH GOD HOW DARE YOU MOVE, sick. He held our weekend hostage, but whateve, that’s parenting.
In the midst of it all I made an attempt to cheer him up a little bit. Everyone loves a little tickles, right?! So, he squirmed rapidly in my arms, leaned to the right and promptly bit the ever living crap out of me. It HURT. I’ve got a sweet bruise from it now that is painful to touch. It was a legit bite.
Of course, the second it happened, I was in immediate panic mode. For example, the thoughts that were racing through my head: omg, he’s gonna be one of those kids. He’s gonna be a biter. He’s not gonna have any friends. All the other kids around him are gonna be afraid of him. So, *calculates exact wording and plan of action in her head*, this is how we’re gonna approach it. When it happens at childcare, this is how we’re gonna manage it. When it comes up in parent teacher meetings, this is how we’re gonna address it. We’re gonna see him through this, we’re gonna help his manage his frustration in ways different but not harmful, and it’ll all be okay. We’ve got this, we’ve got this, we’ve got this…
Aaaaaand, in the span of 8 seconds, I was five years ahead of myself disaster planning and readying for the worst while somewhat maybe actually DESPERATELY hoping for the best.
With some gentle reminders from D, such as the fact that our child is really freakin’ sick (with a cold that I too now ferociously have), tired and not wanting any of our shit, I was able to snap back to the*now* and take a deep breath.
But I fail to comprehend how, as a parent, to live in that now. To stop and take note of exactly where I am. I wasn’t like this before I became a mom, and, now that I am, it’s hard. Really freakin’ hard. Even more so when you’ve got a FIERCE bruise on the precious flesh of your inner arm staring you right in the face.
So, I love you terribly, sweet boy, but next time? Try not to hit a spot that is so tender. Both physically and emotionally. 💚
A year ago today and ever since then…
You made me a mom. After years of uncertainty, you arrived. Squishy, small, loud and proud, you arrived and opened a door that I will never, ever close.
You taught me a meaning of love that was entirely and utterly selfless, eternal and profound to the absolute depths of my core.
You reopened within me a humour and laughter that was warm, joyous, tirelessly in love and kind. Forever my tickle and cuddle monster you will be.
You brought to my marriage a new lens to which I could view my husband/your dad. His hardened exterior crumbled just a bit more as he gave to you everything he could possibly give; compassion, tears, snuggles, worries and mirth.
You prompted a yearning for me to want to live in a better world and for me to be better myself, as I emulated my very best attempts at grace, dignity, respect and trust.
And finally, you gave to my career a new understanding, an unseen beauty, a purposeful slowing down and an opening of eyes. Not only to the image of the child, but to the image of the parent amongst a world that refuses to stand still.
So, no matter how tired, overwhelmed, anxious and unsure I have been throughout our journey thus far, I am forever and without question grateful for you.
Happy first birthday, my sweet boy. 💚
Tomorrow is my first day of being back to work post mat-leave.
There are so very very very very many thoughts coursing throughout my brain on this eve of stepping again into the working life I once had while saying goodbye (for now, at least) to the everyday, day-long rituals of my son and I as we lived as one, breathed as one, cried as one, laughed as one and found a sweet, peaceful solace as one. I will miss those days always, and ache for them I know that I will.
But it is time for me to use my brain again. It is time for it to hurt again as I wrestle in ways theoretical, philosophical and pedagogical. It is time for me to bring that which I have struggled with, questioned with and embraced with of motherhood and to see what of it gives rise to my being as an educator, collaborator and enricher.
Don’t let this fool you into thinking I am ready.
I’m not.
But tomorrow will always, always come.
It’s been a rough three weeks.
O’s had teething issues, tummy problems, sleeping woes and a clinginess that has been nearly suffocating. I’ve had some difficult mental struggles that I’m still trying to understand and make sense of… and D, the super hero that he is, has been working extra extra extra extra hard to make sure that we’re both okay and happy, but he too is getting rather worn around the edges as a result.
This morning, however, O let me sleep in until 6:30 and I was able to make, eat and *enjoy* my breakfast all while he contently played on his own in his space. I can’t remember the last time this happened. By 7:25AM, my entire weekend had been won.