Here's Some Honesty

I've been reading blogs and thinking about parenting for a long time. I've been preparing for parenting for years. I've actively wanted a child since I was 18 years old (I'm28 now), but knew that I wanted to be a parent long before then. Kelly and I spent years, literally, preparing for our child. During pregnancy, I read books and literature and talked to parents and tried to get as much information as I could. I read about postpartum depression and could list the symptoms for you if you wanted. I paid attention, I had the right attitudes. I did everything that any expecting mother could possibly do to ensure that the experience of motherhood was as simple as possible.

Well, it didn't turn out that way for me. Here's an analogy. You know when you are watching the high dive on the Olympics and the announcers make a really big deal about the next diver? You watch as they are climbing the stairs and all their past dives are being displayed. They are at the top of their game, the best of the best. And you anticipate this incredible dive - lots of loops and twists, perfectly aligned body that slips effortlessly into the water with no splash, an eruption of applause, game over for everyone else. Instead, the diver takes that first leap and everything goes wrong from there. The turns are sloppy, the legs come apart, the entrance into the water is crooked and a huge splash bombs out of the pool. The diver comes up, swims to the edge of the pool, climbs out and stands under the shower water pretending it never happened, barely blinking when the losing scores are flashed for the world to see. And everyone talks, and replays all the failures and slows it down and points out the flaws with their little white TV marker. And by the time the event is over, all you can remember is how badly that one diver fucked up.

That has been my experience with mothering. There was no smooth and graceful entry into this for me. I've have stumbled and bumbled and trodded my way through. I'm not great at this. Sure, I've got the tasks mastered. I mean, you change enough diapers and you get good at it. I mean, I'm not good at mothering. Not instinctual, at least.

And the worst part about it all is that NOBODY IS FUCKING TALKING ABOUT THIS PART. I KNOW I'm not the only woman to have struggled with this. I KNOW that I'm not the only mother who is so bored she could just scream. I KNOW that I'm not the only person to have wondered more than once if they made the right decision. I KNOW that I'm not the only person who is relieved to have the option of putting my child in childcare so that I can go back to work and have some space from this. I KNOW that I'm not, and yet, nobody else seems to want to talk about it.

I am so tired of having to remind myself that I'm NOT a bad mother because I don't fit that horrible fucking image we have of mothers out there. We (and I include myself in this, because I was just another judgmental fuck like everyone else before I lived through this experience) set mothers up. We tell them that this will be the most joyful experience and that all of a sudden they will develop this incredible ability to just let go of all of their own needs in order to be their child's mother. Not only will they be able to do it, but they will be happy about it! We expect human beings to simply shift their entire focus, and when they don't (or can't) we call them selfish and question their ability to be a good parent because of it.

Well, here's what I have to say to that: FUCK YOU and FUCK OFF. Because I AM a good mother, even though hanging out with Bailey isn't the best thing I've ever done. I DO love my child, even though I don't always like the constant tasks that go along with being her mother. I AM doing a good job at this, even though I haven't sunk into that blissful state that everyone seems to think mothers should live in.

It's not about being selfish or being a bad parent. And I refuse to remain silent anymore. I refuse to allow other people to define how parenting should be for me. Spend a couple of days walking in my shoes before you start telling me how to raise my child. If you think for one second that I don't wish this were easier for me, then you have the right to get right the hell out of my life. If I could fit your image of what you think a parent should be, I would. It would be so much easier if this truly were easy. I'd love that.

Because this is HARD WORK. This isn't a cake walk. It isn't simple. It isn't even very fun a lot of the time.

And we wonder why women get postpartum depression. We paint one very narrow little image of how a mother should be and SHAME her if she isn't that way. Well, I'm not that way. And my child is still beautiful. She is still the love of my life. She is still the best thing that ever happened to Kelly and I. I am still her Momma. And I'm still going to be the best parent I possibly can be.

But I'm not going to be silent and allow anyone to tell me that I'm supposed to feel differently. And when I talk about this being the hardest thing I've ever done, with the least amount of payback, feel free to leave if you don't like what you hear. Because I'm not going to stop talking. Someone has to be honest and willing to speak the truth for all those women out there who don't fit the June Cleaver mold.