Motherhood -- Is it really that hard?

This motherhood thing.  Man, we really blow it all out of proportion.

Yes, it’s hard.  Yes, it’s exhausting.  Yes, we sometimes, often, want to run away.  And we will never admit that to anyone, not even to ourselves.  But we definitely dream about it.  

But come on, guys.  Is it really that hard?  I mean, yes.  Of course it’s fucking hard.  Of course it’s one of the hardest things we will ever do, requiring an enormous amount of effort and endurance and most of all, patience -- but is it really -- that --hard?

It’s hard because we have to give up our freedom.  Another human (or humans) now comes first, from birth until -- well, forever.  It’s hard because we’re spoiled and we want to go out for dinner and a movie and then go out for drinks and not have to worry about what time we’ll be home or the babysitter bill.  It’s hard because we want to go to sleep when we’re tired and not be required to wake up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday (or 2 a.m., for that matter).  It’s hard because we want to go to yoga but the baby needs to breastfeed or we find a few minutes to meditate but the baby starts crying, or we go the whole day and realize we’re cranky as hell because we forgot to eat.  It’s hard because when we don’t feel well we just want to stay in bed all day.  And it’s hard because we no longer feel as though we’re in control of our lives, though truth be told, we never really were.

This is all entirely unavoidable.  And no matter how prepared you are for parenthood, at some point you will feel the squeeze of another human being encroaching on your life, and you will want to scream.  But this is not the kind of hard I’m talking about.  

I’m talking about the way we agonize over how and where they are born, whether and how long they breastfeed, what kinds of toys we let them chew on, what kinds of diapers we make them wear, which soaps and lotions and butt creams we let touch their skin, which foods we allow into their bodies, how we teach them language and manners and whether to use the word “no”, how long we let them cry at night, how much television they can watch, what kinds of shoes they should wear to best support their tiny newly walking feet, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  I am constantly judging myself for the choices I make in these and all related (and unrelated) areas and it is, utterly, EXHAUSTING.  And let’s be honest.  We are fortunate to even have these kinds of decisions to make.  We are fortunate to have clean running water to bathe their little butts in.

Here’s the thing.  At the end of your child’s life, he or she is not going to judge you by these things.  He or she will only want to know -- to FEEL -- that you loved them and sacrificed for them and wanted them.  They will want to know that you did your best, which is not to say that you researched the hell out of every little thing to make sure you chose the right preschool or toothpaste or sleeping method, but that you followed your instinct, your heart.  That you wanted the best for them, and that you tried your hardest to provide it while also maintaining a wholeness for yourself.

So every day, just try your best.  Tell your kid how much you love them.  Spend a few minutes each day making sure they know this.  Apologize if you screw up.  Tell them you’re learning too.  Thank them for being on this journey with you.  Those are the things they'll remember.

And give yourself a break, Mom.  If your kid is alive and smiling, you’re doing an awesome job.  Happy Mother’s Day!

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