Late last summer, I was suffering from a bad case of the “Mommy Doldrums.” I was in the grocery store and spoke with a cashier there. She was four months pregnant with her first child—much sooner than she’d planned on becoming a mother. Once I’d said my congratulations, I felt compelled to say something more—the classic, cliché things all mothers are supposed to say to soon-to-be mothers: “It’s so wonderful; it’s so worth it; they’re such a joy” etc.
And I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell her those things because I didn’t feel them. Instead, I had to admit, right there in front of my own mother, “It’s so hard.” (I had to tell her; no one told me!)
I have to admit, if I haven’t already, that my own frustrations with motherhood are a large reason why I write a blog about finding fulfillment in motherhood. Now, of course, I know that no matter how hard you try, you won’t feel skippy-happy-let’s-have-eight-more-just-like-him every second of every day as a mother.
People who have never struggled with this feeling often don’t understand. I know someone will read this and think, “She just doesn’t love her children enough.” Think what you like, but I love my son very much. I’m not trying to say that motherhood isn’t wonderful, or worth it, or joyful. Every time I laugh with my son, or engage in a “conversation,” or comfort him, I know that I’m doing the right thing with my life. I wouldn’t wish him away.
What I was wishing for that day was just to hear someone else tell me that they struggle with motherhood from time to time—I struggled every day, it seemed like. For some reason, I felt as though no one else thinks motherhood is hard.
What is it that’s so hard for me at these times? What am I struggling with? It’s hard for me to understand and articulate myself. But I know that, in part, the difficulty that I’m experiencing can be attributed to Hayden’s age at the time: the constantly-on-the-go, exploring-everything-he-can-find bundle of impetuous, boundless curiosity that is a toddler can wear you out physically, emotionally and mentally.
At times like this, I’ve let insidious little lies creep into my thoughts—if I were a good mother, I wouldn’t feel this way about motherhood; I’d better get over this (or through this) before even beginning to think about having more kids; I must not love him enough.
Maybe this is really the root of the problem: I’m not really trusting myself to be the mom that I need to be. At these times, all I ever worry about and contemplate is how hard motherhood is for me (okay, and sometimes how hard my mothering must be on my son!). I mean, even writing this down makes me feel ashamed for being so self-centered.
I know that there’s more to motherhood than repeatedly battling a toddler for the privilege of wiping his backside, and I know that motherhood is a high and noble calling, but some days it’s just hard to think of that part.
How do you get past the “Mommy Doldrums”?
Note that I’m perfectly fine right now; this was written a while back.