Trying to find the Me in Motherhood…..
I just climbed 33 steps with a pile of clean laundry. Behind me was my energetic three year old. Getting to the bedroom I plopped on the floor out of breath. My child pointed to me and yelled “Your Fat”!
Raise your hand if you have been personally victimized by a toddler. They are the cutest little monsters the world has seen. I chuckled a little under erratic breaths. Promising him he was going to time out, once I peeled myself off the floor.
Photo by Edwin Andrade on Unsplash
He was right, looking in the mirror I did look different. Yea,there was alot of weight gain. But that wasn’t entirely the point. Coming from a line of “big boned beauties”, I can own my shape at any size. But looking at that mirror I didn’t recognize who I saw. The sass, gone. Confidence, wiped clean. Motivation, where was it? I couldn’t even find a laugh. I was on “mommy pilot”, tesla style. I needed to find somewhere to plug in again.
When you are expecting a child you anticipate the cuteness days, bedtime stories, kissing their cute faces. But what really hits you before your kid can is the gravity of what being a parent really means. It smacks, stomps, throws you out of whatever fantasy is held after you see those two pink lines on the pregnancy test. When that “new baby smell” wears off and family and friends no longer find it acceptable to change a diaper or bring over a meal. It’s like realizing that “Baby Shark” song never actually ends. Holy Shit!
Photo by William Fortunato on Pexels
Sure, having a child brings out your inner one and I have been one to always believe that one should keep your inner child alive and well. But over the years I realized mine had been silenced. When you are navigating mom-hood mixed with regular adult shit, things like date nights, girls nights and me time can become damn near impossible. I was stuck, where would I find myself and how do I pull her back ?
Fighting to get myself back was much harder than I thought. Requiring me to do more than I ever have done, fighting against fatigue, feelings of depression, anxiety. It meant being extra tired, sacrificing time with others to spend more time with me. Doing things I loved, allowing myself to be loved, happier, healthier, honest.
After all that, realizing I was hiding behind motherhood. Giving myself excuses to be less, conforming to a role, it was killing me. It literally took a three old to help me face the mirror I had been hiding from.
I had to thank my son for calling “FAT!”