I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a mom and be a mother, or a parent. It's something I think people sugar coat a lot or gloss over for fear of offending someone or saying something wrong but that's not what this blog is about. I don't want a superficial blog. I want to share my perspective and my feelings. I recognize yours may be different, but that's why this is my blog and not yours.
So I will continue. And while everybody's experience may be different, I feel much of mine may had to do with the deep state of depression I was in for so long after Thomas was born, to a certain extent I think my words apply to everyone. And I wish I had known and thought about and considered these things before I decided to have children. Not because it would change my decision to have a baby, but because it would have changed how I raised him, even in those first few months.
There is this notion of being a mom that is completely one-sided and selfish. To have a small child to fawn over, dress up cute, run errands with, love, and be loved back unconditionally. There is a part of being a mother that almost every woman I know longs for and desires deep down at some point in their life. To hold their baby in their arms, to clap at the child's first step, first word, first burp. It is all new and exciting and shiny. Even the hard things like waking up for midnight, and 3 am feedings, staying up late to comfort a sick child, and having to change clothes for the fourteenth time that day because of blow-outs and spit ups. When a woman decides to have a baby she wants it, expects it and is ready for it.
And it all comes wrapped in this beautiful package of what deep down they really want. A void-filling bundle of love, that will scream and cry but also kiss and cuddle on a whim and without a moments notice.
This is at least how it was for me. I had dreams of teaching my child to ride a bike, family picnics at the park, hikes and birthday parties. Reading stories all night and rocking my baby to sleep at night. I never gave much thought or consideration to the other half of being a mother. The part that is not so much maternal instinct and nurturing but still just as crucial to a child's upbringing. And it seems strange to me now that I am a mother, to have never given much thought or consideration to this aspect of mothering. There is being "mom", the one your child looks to and knows, because you have been there from the very beginning and then there is being a mother. And this is how I will refer to it as being "mom" and being a mother because I don't know how else to say it. I'm sure there is a word for it, the difference between nurturing and loving verse really really nurturing and teaching and parenting. But for the sake of this blog post, I will just differentiate between the two in this way, the way my brain seems to grasp it.
This aspect of being a mother for me is the most challenging part of parenting, or was at least for a very long time. It is the part I never gave much thought to or considered when having a child, though I wish that I had as I think it to be more challenging than the diapering and feeding and whatnot. This aspect of being a mother is the setting aside of your own wants and desires, and even molding them into those of your child. It is taking the time to teach your child their ABC's, nursery rhymes, how to build a sand castle, and all the other things that come along with childhood that we as adults take for granted. Do you know the words of "Mary Had a Little Lamb"? Who taught it to you?
It's dawned on me recently that for a long time I have taken much of Thomas' education for granted. An haphazard attempt of repeating the alphabet and counting in the car because we're stuck in there together on a long drive. Or resignedly pausing a movie to go read Thomas a book before bed. Ignoring the fact that he just threw a toy across the room because I'm too tired to have a power struggle and enforce a time-out. But should he fall and hurt himself after that very moment of throwing the toy, or throw up in his bed due to a sickness while waiting for me to come read a book, you better believe I will be there in .2 seconds flat.
What is instinctive for me while still requires long hours, sacrifices of time and commitment to rearing a child who is well-rounded is not the same as the other tasks of motherhood and parenting that are equally as important and demand just as much if not more time. I think to myself how many nursery rhymes does Thomas know? How many scripture stories? What can he tell me about God, about himself, have we read his collection of books enough times for him to know every story? How come some children his age know all the letters of the alphabet and can count to 20 and he can sometimes count to three? It's because I haven't devoted the time and attention to this other half of mothering.
And as I've started to think about this, I've noticed certain things in me have changed. While getting on the floor and playing with the kids has always seemed like work, I now look for opportunities to do so. To see the light in his eyes as we exercise his imagination to play a new game and find something new. As opposed to the one game he always wanted to play in the past called, "rocketship" which consists of throwing a blanket over us and pretending we're in outer space so that I can sleep and don't have to get out of bed.
One of the biggest changes I've found is how I view other aspects of my life. I love my job, I do. I don't think I could have a better job with better benefits and more flexibility than I do at this current time. And for the longest time I was so excited to go to work and get "away from it all". Bed times and making dinner, temper tantrums and whining. Drop the kid off at the babysitter and have some "me time". And now with this sudden paradigm shift I sometimes cry after dropping Thomas off at the babysitter, realizing how many precious hours I have lost with him where we could be playing and learning. That no babysitter will teach him the things I want to teach him, or introduce him to the things I want him to see and experience about life, in the way that I would or the way that I would want. I think of all the family dinners around the table we are not having because I am at work, the play dates he could have with friends, and even the friendships I could be making in the process. And I suddenly get it. How hard it is for most moms to work while raising children. A part of me wonders why I never felt this way before, and to be honest I'm not quite sure. I am sad that I've spent much of my time pushing Thomas away because I was overwhelmed or stressed, and I'm sure a lot of it had to do with my postpartum but I know a lot of it also has to do with the way society views mothers and parenting. Things we perceive and have learned about how it is supposed to be.
Children are not a burden. Children are the greatest joy in the world. And I've often thought if I don't get pregnant again it will be however it is supposed to be, and I'm okay with that. Lately though I have found myself heartbroken at the thought that I will never hold another newborn of my own again, raise a child from birth and have the opportunity to do the things I should have done the first time, and cherish the moments and not just be there but be there, even from the earliest stage. And a part of me is fearful too, that if I do have another baby, I will just make the same mistakes all over again. Fall into the same depression and withdrawal even more. I can't say how it would be but I can't help but think knowing and feeling what I know now I would do it differently.
I am immensely grateful that I've had this new revelation on what it means to be a mother before Thomas got older. I can't bear to think of another moment of his life spent without me being actively involved in every moment of his day. Not to say I never did anything with him before, but I was so dissociated from him. My mind somewhere else, only briefly enthralled, in passing moments, by the wonder of his naivety and cherubic outlook on life. And usually anxious to drop him on Jack at the end of the day, go to work and "unwind".
I like to think our days go a little differently now. I know I still have leaps and bounds of progress to make but I have challenged myself to be there for Thomas. Both maternally when he falls and is hurt and needs comforting as well as a confident mother who can lead and direct his life. Teaching him academics, life lessons, an appreciation of the world and of God. How to be a good friend, how to be a good brother, a responsible member of a family who does his part and feels the rewards of a job well done. I hope with all my heart I can provide these things to him throughout his life.
I reflect on my favorite memories growing up, and the one that always sticks out to me and comes back to me is a memory of my mom sitting on the floor playing Barbie with my sisters and I. Her fake Barbie voice, and how much she seemed to be enjoying herself with us. She wasn't checking her phone in between outfit changes, (not like we had cell phones back then), or sighing and looking at the clock. She was there, in the moment, with me. I have other memories from when I got older and I did feel like a burden to her, and I could tell the difference. The way it made me feel as a person. I want to fill Thomas' life and the lives of his future siblings with the positive memories of playing together, enjoying each other. Asking questions about the world, dreaming about the future.
I am committing myself to long sleepless hours, getting out of bed early even when I'm tired, giving up reading time or time on the computer, "me time", for preparing Thomas for kindergarten. Giving up the comfort of sitting on the couch trying to ignore his misbehavior for a power struggle to teach him that I am his parent, and I love him enough to discipline him now and teach him now of actions and consequences, so that he won't have to learn the hard way later.
It isn't easy to admit to myself these things. This method of parenting I seem to have carried for so long. The short-patience, quick tempered, get me out of here- but really don't kind of way. It's quite absurd when you think about it. Pretending to not really like your kids all that much when really you love them. And it seems as though you do everything for them, but really you have to sit down and ask yourself then why do I feel so unfulfilled? And am I really going "all the way" or am I just giving the appearance of it because it's easier?
And the interesting thing is even though this other aspect seems like so much more work, it isn't. It makes life more fulfilling and interesting. It fills me with more patience because I react immediately and curtail the tantrum before it escalates and emotions get out of control for both of us. And it keeps Thomas happier because he sees that I am really there for him and want to be there for him. And there are still moments when I lose my patience and I lose my temper, and I breathe heavily and ask Jack to take Thomas for awhile. Or I let Thomas watch a show or play on the computer and relax and read a book for a moment, but it is just a moment and doesn't all of a sudden turn into an entire day where I used to wonder where our time together had gone.
But then there are moments when I tell him what a joke is, and I look up jokes on my phone and read him line after line because he is amazed by this new concept. And moments where he draws the letter "T" all over his arm and I am just so happy because he drew the letter "T" that I don't even care that he is covered in marker. And I look forward to these moments. My heart aches to teach him something new and build more memories. I want to sit and play with him. I want to teach him how to sweep the kitchen floor, and let him help me make dinner. I want in every way to not only be his mom but to be his mother. And while it does make going to work each day a little bit harder, and makes me miss him a whole lot more, I wouldn't have it any other way. And the look in his eyes when I say, "guess what, Thomas? Today is mom's day off and we can stay together all day," says it all, he looks forward to those moments too. And I want to create as many of them as I can.
So I will continue. And while everybody's experience may be different, I feel much of mine may had to do with the deep state of depression I was in for so long after Thomas was born, to a certain extent I think my words apply to everyone. And I wish I had known and thought about and considered these things before I decided to have children. Not because it would change my decision to have a baby, but because it would have changed how I raised him, even in those first few months.
There is this notion of being a mom that is completely one-sided and selfish. To have a small child to fawn over, dress up cute, run errands with, love, and be loved back unconditionally. There is a part of being a mother that almost every woman I know longs for and desires deep down at some point in their life. To hold their baby in their arms, to clap at the child's first step, first word, first burp. It is all new and exciting and shiny. Even the hard things like waking up for midnight, and 3 am feedings, staying up late to comfort a sick child, and having to change clothes for the fourteenth time that day because of blow-outs and spit ups. When a woman decides to have a baby she wants it, expects it and is ready for it.
And it all comes wrapped in this beautiful package of what deep down they really want. A void-filling bundle of love, that will scream and cry but also kiss and cuddle on a whim and without a moments notice.
This is at least how it was for me. I had dreams of teaching my child to ride a bike, family picnics at the park, hikes and birthday parties. Reading stories all night and rocking my baby to sleep at night. I never gave much thought or consideration to the other half of being a mother. The part that is not so much maternal instinct and nurturing but still just as crucial to a child's upbringing. And it seems strange to me now that I am a mother, to have never given much thought or consideration to this aspect of mothering. There is being "mom", the one your child looks to and knows, because you have been there from the very beginning and then there is being a mother. And this is how I will refer to it as being "mom" and being a mother because I don't know how else to say it. I'm sure there is a word for it, the difference between nurturing and loving verse really really nurturing and teaching and parenting. But for the sake of this blog post, I will just differentiate between the two in this way, the way my brain seems to grasp it.
This aspect of being a mother for me is the most challenging part of parenting, or was at least for a very long time. It is the part I never gave much thought to or considered when having a child, though I wish that I had as I think it to be more challenging than the diapering and feeding and whatnot. This aspect of being a mother is the setting aside of your own wants and desires, and even molding them into those of your child. It is taking the time to teach your child their ABC's, nursery rhymes, how to build a sand castle, and all the other things that come along with childhood that we as adults take for granted. Do you know the words of "Mary Had a Little Lamb"? Who taught it to you?
It's dawned on me recently that for a long time I have taken much of Thomas' education for granted. An haphazard attempt of repeating the alphabet and counting in the car because we're stuck in there together on a long drive. Or resignedly pausing a movie to go read Thomas a book before bed. Ignoring the fact that he just threw a toy across the room because I'm too tired to have a power struggle and enforce a time-out. But should he fall and hurt himself after that very moment of throwing the toy, or throw up in his bed due to a sickness while waiting for me to come read a book, you better believe I will be there in .2 seconds flat.
What is instinctive for me while still requires long hours, sacrifices of time and commitment to rearing a child who is well-rounded is not the same as the other tasks of motherhood and parenting that are equally as important and demand just as much if not more time. I think to myself how many nursery rhymes does Thomas know? How many scripture stories? What can he tell me about God, about himself, have we read his collection of books enough times for him to know every story? How come some children his age know all the letters of the alphabet and can count to 20 and he can sometimes count to three? It's because I haven't devoted the time and attention to this other half of mothering.
And as I've started to think about this, I've noticed certain things in me have changed. While getting on the floor and playing with the kids has always seemed like work, I now look for opportunities to do so. To see the light in his eyes as we exercise his imagination to play a new game and find something new. As opposed to the one game he always wanted to play in the past called, "rocketship" which consists of throwing a blanket over us and pretending we're in outer space so that I can sleep and don't have to get out of bed.
One of the biggest changes I've found is how I view other aspects of my life. I love my job, I do. I don't think I could have a better job with better benefits and more flexibility than I do at this current time. And for the longest time I was so excited to go to work and get "away from it all". Bed times and making dinner, temper tantrums and whining. Drop the kid off at the babysitter and have some "me time". And now with this sudden paradigm shift I sometimes cry after dropping Thomas off at the babysitter, realizing how many precious hours I have lost with him where we could be playing and learning. That no babysitter will teach him the things I want to teach him, or introduce him to the things I want him to see and experience about life, in the way that I would or the way that I would want. I think of all the family dinners around the table we are not having because I am at work, the play dates he could have with friends, and even the friendships I could be making in the process. And I suddenly get it. How hard it is for most moms to work while raising children. A part of me wonders why I never felt this way before, and to be honest I'm not quite sure. I am sad that I've spent much of my time pushing Thomas away because I was overwhelmed or stressed, and I'm sure a lot of it had to do with my postpartum but I know a lot of it also has to do with the way society views mothers and parenting. Things we perceive and have learned about how it is supposed to be.
Children are not a burden. Children are the greatest joy in the world. And I've often thought if I don't get pregnant again it will be however it is supposed to be, and I'm okay with that. Lately though I have found myself heartbroken at the thought that I will never hold another newborn of my own again, raise a child from birth and have the opportunity to do the things I should have done the first time, and cherish the moments and not just be there but be there, even from the earliest stage. And a part of me is fearful too, that if I do have another baby, I will just make the same mistakes all over again. Fall into the same depression and withdrawal even more. I can't say how it would be but I can't help but think knowing and feeling what I know now I would do it differently.
I am immensely grateful that I've had this new revelation on what it means to be a mother before Thomas got older. I can't bear to think of another moment of his life spent without me being actively involved in every moment of his day. Not to say I never did anything with him before, but I was so dissociated from him. My mind somewhere else, only briefly enthralled, in passing moments, by the wonder of his naivety and cherubic outlook on life. And usually anxious to drop him on Jack at the end of the day, go to work and "unwind".
I like to think our days go a little differently now. I know I still have leaps and bounds of progress to make but I have challenged myself to be there for Thomas. Both maternally when he falls and is hurt and needs comforting as well as a confident mother who can lead and direct his life. Teaching him academics, life lessons, an appreciation of the world and of God. How to be a good friend, how to be a good brother, a responsible member of a family who does his part and feels the rewards of a job well done. I hope with all my heart I can provide these things to him throughout his life.
I reflect on my favorite memories growing up, and the one that always sticks out to me and comes back to me is a memory of my mom sitting on the floor playing Barbie with my sisters and I. Her fake Barbie voice, and how much she seemed to be enjoying herself with us. She wasn't checking her phone in between outfit changes, (not like we had cell phones back then), or sighing and looking at the clock. She was there, in the moment, with me. I have other memories from when I got older and I did feel like a burden to her, and I could tell the difference. The way it made me feel as a person. I want to fill Thomas' life and the lives of his future siblings with the positive memories of playing together, enjoying each other. Asking questions about the world, dreaming about the future.
I am committing myself to long sleepless hours, getting out of bed early even when I'm tired, giving up reading time or time on the computer, "me time", for preparing Thomas for kindergarten. Giving up the comfort of sitting on the couch trying to ignore his misbehavior for a power struggle to teach him that I am his parent, and I love him enough to discipline him now and teach him now of actions and consequences, so that he won't have to learn the hard way later.
It isn't easy to admit to myself these things. This method of parenting I seem to have carried for so long. The short-patience, quick tempered, get me out of here- but really don't kind of way. It's quite absurd when you think about it. Pretending to not really like your kids all that much when really you love them. And it seems as though you do everything for them, but really you have to sit down and ask yourself then why do I feel so unfulfilled? And am I really going "all the way" or am I just giving the appearance of it because it's easier?
And the interesting thing is even though this other aspect seems like so much more work, it isn't. It makes life more fulfilling and interesting. It fills me with more patience because I react immediately and curtail the tantrum before it escalates and emotions get out of control for both of us. And it keeps Thomas happier because he sees that I am really there for him and want to be there for him. And there are still moments when I lose my patience and I lose my temper, and I breathe heavily and ask Jack to take Thomas for awhile. Or I let Thomas watch a show or play on the computer and relax and read a book for a moment, but it is just a moment and doesn't all of a sudden turn into an entire day where I used to wonder where our time together had gone.
But then there are moments when I tell him what a joke is, and I look up jokes on my phone and read him line after line because he is amazed by this new concept. And moments where he draws the letter "T" all over his arm and I am just so happy because he drew the letter "T" that I don't even care that he is covered in marker. And I look forward to these moments. My heart aches to teach him something new and build more memories. I want to sit and play with him. I want to teach him how to sweep the kitchen floor, and let him help me make dinner. I want in every way to not only be his mom but to be his mother. And while it does make going to work each day a little bit harder, and makes me miss him a whole lot more, I wouldn't have it any other way. And the look in his eyes when I say, "guess what, Thomas? Today is mom's day off and we can stay together all day," says it all, he looks forward to those moments too. And I want to create as many of them as I can.
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