First let me start by saying I never wanted or thought of being a mom. Didn’t dream about a child or children. Never really saw myself as a lady let alone a woman who would ever be old enough to be “with child”. I babysat a ton, loved kids, kids loved me - end of story. Taught many how to ride a bike and stop wetting their pants (irony is that I STRUGGLED to teach mine and most days it’s still a forgotten tool).
It was an extremely short, uneventful, conversation with my ex-husband on “starting our family” (whatever that meant). And the moment of truth, and pause, of “are you sure you want to try?” was asked. My answer: “yes, I have no idea”. And the deed was done.
I feel like a pure asshole with the lack of passion, ideals, conversation, planning, trying, trying, trying, crying, etc. I said I don’t know, and I was.
On Valentine's day 2014, after sushi, wine and watching a movie I took a pregnancy test. Sidenote: I took a pregnancy test because I had one left over from an “oh shit” moment and it was just shy of its expiration date. So I did it just so I wouldn’t feel bad about throwing away an unused E.P.T. - so ridiculous... and just like that, my world became suffocating. Fast forward and all the things I just listed above of what didn’t happen leading up to becoming pregnant all came rushing through the following 8 months. I had a physically easy pregnancy. I kept up with my work, fitness, and volunteering. If I didn’t know I was pregnant I would have thought I was growing a dad-bod… literally my dad’s body.
The emotions, however, were intense. Not because of hormones (probably a huge chunk of it, but I have zero reference point) but because I was in denial of my soon to be life, along with, the life I thought I had with my husband was falling apart.
When my daughter decided to come 3.5 weeks early and push me into a C-section because she was “hiney down” I knew my life would be forever changed… and I knew it was changed far beyond being responsible for a human, but that’s hindsight (pun intended).
I didn’t know if I was having a boy, girl or fur baby. I cried and was cold. And then I heard her holler like a thousand wolves awakening the wild that she was home.
I was, am, and will forever be - Fortunate.
I went from “what the fuck did I do?” to “how the fuck couldn’t I want this?”
I know many women don’t have that grace of going from complete confusion to elation. And going from complete thrill to intense postpartum.
Within 3 days my postpartum hit and hit hard. Good thing I’m a pro at being in denial and plowed slowly through it, also I forever survivor of depression… but I kept hitting brick walls (postpartum and depression is for another post).
Nonetheless, I have survived and I’ve been able to mentally revisit who and what I was from then to just shy of 7 years later and I’ve learned some epic lessons.
Most important lesson…. The M.I.L.B.
The Mom I’d Like to Be.
I am a mom. I will always be becoming a mom.
I also believe that whether you have one child or five. Each one with each phase and each age is the very first time you, and that child, are both doing it together.
The point in this post is from the past 7 years, and more intensely the past 20+ days since my last post, I’ve started picking up on who I’d like to be… as a mom.
Ask me who I want to be as a lover, friend or employee and I’ll stare at you blinking.
So what do I want to refine? What do I want to gain? And what do I need to let go of all together?
I want to be fearless. I want to drop away any preconceived daydreams of who and what she could be. I already know she’s fucking rad and whatever she decides she will enter it with a smoke grenade and swagger.
I cannot and will not be able to save her. Heartbreak, broken bones, hair dye, making the team, passing the test… and the list goes on. This will be something I am challenged with until I die.
I am not her friend or enemy. I’m Switzerland. She doesn’t need to know my struggles, I need to understand all of hers without judgement. I need to guide her and establish boundaries without isolating her. I need to make it comfortable for her to share her thoughts, curiosities and fears but not be braiding her hair at the same time and sharing my similar sex stories. I need to set and maintain routine, expectations and house rules without breaking them myself.
I don’t want to be ‘the’ working mom. But I want to be working and showing that if you want something you hustle for it. You get yourself in the stream with like spirits and direction. Surround yourself with challenge and discomfort to expand what you can’t even imagine is possible.
I don’t want her to ever feel responsible for my happiness. (this is a tough one ya’ll) As of now, I’m not sure if she associates anything other than herself as what “makes momma happy.” That wholly breaks my heart. First, she will always be my joy and my home. Being in her presence brings me a purpose beyond explanation. She may think home workouts, yoga, reading, house projects or work bring me happiness. She certainly doesn’t associate my enlightenment to any other human other than herself. I want to lead by example that there are my facets to a person’s “happy gauge” and not one thing or one person can provide that.
Balance. Being able to carve time only for me that DOES NOT include work. Goes to the point above.
I want to be healthy… like way more than what I am. Sleep health, body health, mind health, clean environment health, human interaction health. And maybe I want health between her father and I. To show shift can happen in life but kindness, boundaries and respect don’t need to be compromised.
I want to be a mom that shows that any healthy love matters. To the point just above, if there is kindness and respect - love is there. It takes many forms and whatever is healthy and not limiting is the best kind. Throw gender, race, religion, politics to the side… Love is Love.
I want to have fun. Let go of the shame and guilt, be in every single moment and appreciate the latitude to journey freely.
I want to show mistakes happen and it doesn’t prevent forward motion. As she already says now “it’s ok momma, always mistakes happen!” Damn straight.
I don’t want to rush. I feel like I live in a reactive state 7 days a week. High energy, ready to answer the next call, need to be always out the door all.the.time. I need to plan better, flow easier and laugh more often. I’ve said in previous posts that I feel like it’s all slipping too fast and I’ll miss it. I get one shot. One chance at being a mom today and most times I screw it up, miss a step, forget a thing, over-prepare, expect less, give too much and most days come up short. All the while, magic is happening in her little Poq’po that I can experience from the outside. ((pause - go ahead and research Poq'po, we all have it - most all of us have been taught that it's not real so it has become unseen... our children still see it. Oh, you don't want ot type it in... here ya go, Poq'po))
Say what you mean and mean what you say! Simple right? Balls - nope. I mean what I say but it’s so so so very difficult to say what I mean and more importantly how I feel in a way that supports conversations and doesn’t cut it off. I want to be a mom that allows her voice to feel powerful and guiding - never to second guess.
This list could go on if I had moments and space to just think, reflect and observe.
It all boils down to this.
The M.I.L.B. is, has and will always be happening. Maybe that’s the recipe for being a mom?!
I started this post several days ago. Writing little by little as my brain had time, and I forced time, to happen for myself. Today, post day, I had the first full day with my child in 6 weeks since taking my second job. I wanted to make it epic. She reminded me that being home together, eating pancakes, reading, opening the windows through the house, listening to the rain, napping together, and watching a movie for the 27th time - was all really quite epic and soul healing.
I want to do a lot, I want to change a lot. But maybe the most shocking thing of all, is that I have already arrived.
The lesson I learned today… Drink your first cup of coffee like it’s the best coffee you have ever had - Every.Damn.Day. Then you are on the road to really living.
Here is a song from the movie my daughter has watched on a repeat loop... I read the lyrics tonight and it broke open my sternum thinking of her freely dancing around the house today listening to the song when it came on through the movie.
Lose Myself - Ms. Lauryn Hill
~ virtual chest bump
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