I had no clue how to be a mom.
I had never done any real babysitting, never dreamed about my future kids, never wished for motherhood.
And I had no idea that the labor continues long after the delivery. Consequently the first year of Jackson’s life was about the most blurred and confusing one I (barely) remember.
He was a gorgeous baby. Everybody admired him. Deep blue eyes and blonde halo hair. He looked exactly like his dad.
And I wanted to look exactly like I thought a new mom was supposed to look.
But in the first 18 months of Jackson’s life I never met one other new mother who said that she was finding the transition hard, frustrating, exhausting or wretched.
So I played dress-up in my words, my role, my uncomfortably tight clothes and my Sunday mornings when I always answered, “fine” anytime anyone asked how me and the baby were doing.
Fine became my shield and my friend and the bars behind which it was impossible to connect with anyone who could actually relate to where I was at. Me and the moms who all had babies at the same time were all fine as far as I could tell. And I believed to break that spell was to fail at this first test that truly mattered – the grueling multiple choice of motherhood.
I know better now.
I know that dark rings must have lurked under their eye makeup and heart ache under their Sunday outfits. I know that they were likely running on just as little sleep as me and that they wished someone else would hold the baby from 3-5pm. I know that they probably got tired of lugging that car seat carrier everywhere and that they couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept in. I know that they may not have actually enjoyed having to show up on late nights or early mornings for school or church or whatever events.
I know now – now that I’m three kids in – that being a new mom and losing your mind have plenty in common.
But I never heard it back then when it would have helped me to breathe.
Last night I was lying in bed next to my baby girl, twirling her fingers through mine, and I thought of that brand new mom in South Africa. I thought of her alone and lonely under a thatched roof wondering how to make sense of her late nights and early mornings and the rip that had torn through the middle of her universe to let in more love and more chaos than she possibly could have planned when she packed her hospital bag.
I remember that mom and how she wouldn’t have thought lying in bed tired, rumpled, and still in work clothes with a baby girl tucked under one arm and all the dishes from dinner sitting dirty in the sink would have sounded even remotely appealing.
How she couldn’t imagine she’d adapt and that motherhood would start to feel as comfortable as her size 6 jeans used to.
I thought about her and I thought about you reading and how maybe no one has said out loud what you needed to hear either.
In your dark nights and desperate mornings, maybe you need someone to lean in and take you by the hands and say out loud all the crazy you think is yours and yours alone to carry.
Because that’s too heavy a weight, little sister.
We know those 3am feedings and the miles of carpet walked with a wailing infant. We recognize every throw up, blow up, and days when you don’t think you can possibly show up.
We sing the same song. This wailing, celebrating, achingly, beautiful warble of motherhood.
It goes something like this, doesn’t it?
It’s like being born again into a life and a skin that don’t fit quite right and need time to stretch out – this becoming someone’s mother.
You can be out of your mind with exhaustion and confusion and wonder if you’ll ever recognize yourself in the mirror again.
It can hurt to get dressed, it can hurt to discover what doesn’t fit, it can hurt to feel like you don’t fit in.
No one can describe what newborn tired feels like. And the surprise can shock and paralyze.
Hours will be spent preparing to leave the house until it becomes less effort to just stay home.
You can lose friends and parts of your mind that you need to do your work, run your business, manage your home, remember to pick up the toilet paper.
You are not crazy, you are simply shedding layers of your former life like so much old skin. It’s OK that it itches, it’s normal that it’s uncomfortable. It will grow on you.
Falling in love can take time – give it to yourself and your newborn in truck loads.
Leave the dishes, say yes to friends who bring meals, let go of getting all the laundry done and folded and put away all in the same day.
Find at least one person that you can tell how you’re really doing when they ask.
Ditch “fine.” Reach for real.
It gets better. It does get better. Until one day you’re lying in bed with your baby girl and dreading the day she’ll be done with bottles and slurred syllables.
And on that day, remember to tell a new mom how it started. Remember how you feel right now. Remember because you’re going to need it. You’re going to need to admit out loud how it started and how it ends to a little sister who is struggling under the illusion that she has to have it altogether.
She doesn’t.
You don’t.
You reading this at 3am or so late you have no idea when last you slept and are already dreading tomorrow. It’s going to be OK. Slowly. Mostly in unexpected ways. And with more mess than you probably would like. But it is going to be OK.
Especially if you will let someone in to help carry the load.
Related posts:
For the days you want to quit motherhood
The best ways not to help a new mom
100 ways to encourage a new mom
Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe
So, so good! I really thought something was wrong with me because I didn’t immediately feel like a mother after I had my daughter. If only we would be more open with our struggles so we can know that most of them are like everyone else’s!
Every time, Lisa-Jo! You hit it on the head. I would grind my teeth and hate all the smiling people in the grocery store because they seemed to be happy and I couldn’t figure out how on earth my life would ever be normal again without being a slave to the angelic face in my cart. He conveniently slept at the grocery store, just not any other time during those days. Scared and tired and mean and dangerously thin (my postpartum depression diet was extremely effective – but I don’t recommend it or wish it on my worst enemy), I smiled at my pastor and most of my friends and lied through my teeth about how I was doing.
It’s odd how no one tells you all this stuff. Thank you for this post that will surely help mamas tonight!
Oh yes. Mine are nearly 5, 7 & 9 now, but I remember that crazy blur of “fine.” Sigh. Sometimes I’d like to go back for a do-over. And then I remember those nights and think, nah. ;)
I did not know how either. My mom came and helped. Your blog today reflects my experiences.
I remember feeling that way, and then I went through secondary infertility. I waited 15 years and was finally blessed with twins. I was so elated, I never thought I would feel the same tired feelings. I thought each and every moment would be wrapped in joy. But I did feel them. I felt them doubly. And then guilt set in. This post is a great reminder that it is okay to be tired. A tired mama is a beautiful mama:).
Yes! The word “fine” should be banned amongst new mothers, because none of us are really fine! This is why some days, I choose to not clean up before going out. I want another mom to see that some of us go to the grocery store in our yoga pants that we “rested” (because we certainly didn’t sleep) in last night, with pureed sweet potatoes on the shoulder of our husband’s t-shirt that we’re wearing because none of ours fit. So it’s okay if she needed to get Oreo’s without taking the time to put concealer on those dark circles. Thank you for being real!
I agree. Fine wouldn’t be the word for that new mommy time…unless you’re talking about the fine line between sanity and insanity (both of which are totally normal during this time!). My brain and strength were so not there after my first born that I walked out of the church without him the first time that we took him with us!
…And then the night comes when you’re lying in bed, realizing that in just a few short hours your baby girl will be 18 years old and you would be totally willing to go back to those newborn sleepless nights and diapers and baby barf because you know them, and have known them many times over. You’ve never had her, the youngest, be 18 before and the world is so big and you’re afraid of what will happen to her out there in it.
Give me the baby days….anything but the “bye” days.
Lisa-Jo, what a beautiful, beautiful piece. YES! I remember thinking how much better things would have been for me had this kind of true speaking been done when I had my first little one. That first baby of mine is 28 now. The first year of her life was pretty rough. I literally had at most, 1 hour or so of sleep. That darling girl NEVER slept. She cried. A LOT. She went 36 hours once without sleeping a wink. I kid you not. Ask the doctor, who was also a very good friend of ours. He tried valiantly to help us figure out what the problem was. It was pretty trying. (Understatement). Looking back, with how great hindsight is and everything, I think if I had really just leaned into it. Accepted it for what it was. Prayed when the thoughts would form (which wasn’t often as I was too tired to think) and rested in God (cause that’s the only resting I was going to get) and maybe if I had tried not to fight it, it would have been a much better time for all. Fact is though, I could have used this piece of writing you have here because it really did seem like I was alone. All my friends who were having babies seemed to handle it so well and they just couldn’t understand why we had to go to bed at 4:30 in the afternoon if our dear one was sleeping. They couldn’t grasp that we might be awake at 5:00 — a half hour later — until 7 a.m. the next morning and then there might only be a 15 minute reprieve (and my hubby had to leave for work by 6:00 a.m.).
This post. Its ministry. Ministry that matters.
Bless you!!!
The funny thing is I’m sitting here reading this and yes nursing child #4 at 12:55 am and still feel this way. I was so glad to read this as a reminder knowing even though I’m not a new mom this is the rough stretch that we go through trying to be perfect because we think everyone else is or at least appears to be, but again reminded to just let things be and enjoy this time that will go by so quickly. I just had this conversation with a mom while serving at bible study last night about how everything was so behind laundry, cleaning, etc and we laughed about the similar issues of laundry piling or having to do 10 sec tidies before people come over. This was the perfect pick me up tonight. Love these post they always speak right to my heart.
There’s breath and life in your words! Thank you! Nothing else has the power to bring us to out knees like motherhood. I’m on number 3, but I still get overwhelmed. I recently wrote about feelings of failure in motherhood over on my little space (http://faithandcomposition.wordpress.com/2013/03/28/for-when-you-feel-youve-failed-as-a-mother/). It can be so overwhelming at times; but praise The Lord He gives us grave in our failures and words like yours to encourage!
Silly auto correct! I meant he gives us GRACE in our failures … Not grave!
Such a beautiful and timely post for me as I nurse my second born at 4:15 am. Oh, the fatigue, but oh, my God’s sweet grace do we get through each day! Thanks.
Such truth in these words. My precious daughter has just celebrated her 27th Birthday…but as I looked back at that pregnancy and birth all I remember is the fear.
I had already had 3 miscarriages and threatened to miscarry her so many times that I spent most of the 9 months resting on the settee with my legs tightly squeezed together…honestly I didn’t want to move…I was even told not to stretch to much!!!
Then when she arrived I was scared to hold her, change her, lose her…I loved her so much.
I thought I should be full of joy but I was exhausted, it was so overwhelming to finally have her here…what if I did something wrong…oh my goodness I was a mess.
Slowly with the wonderful calming influence of my dear husband I gradually surfaced to be a Mother, still making mistakes, wishing I had it all together….but do you know what I couldn’t have done such a bad job because she is a wonderful young woman and we are so close…I am filled with joy.
I often say to young Mums…are you doing your best,with the knowledge and help and circumstances you are in…are you doing your best dear Mum…and after thinking for a moment the answer is always …yes. xxxxx
I’m sitting here nursing the newborn while my husband soothes the 13-month-old back to sleep for the dozenth time. And last night, when a sweet friend asked how I was doing, I told her “tired.” And she prayed for me. No judgment. No questions. Just a plea to the Father on my behalf. I have two of those friends. They’re the best kind. I think I’ll keep them.
This is all very true. It can also be indicators for postpartum depression. Sweet mamas, stay in touch with your health care provider in case help and intervention is needed. It can save a life–it did mine.
Oh yes! Let someone help carry the load! I was terrified at how badly i adjusted to motherhood. I knew it would be hard and i’d be tired, but no one could have prepared me for how hard and exhausting. Unfortunately no one tried. So i committed to ask better questions of the new mamas in my life, and to let them know that when they feel like they are sinking i’m one they can call because i felt that way so often. My girls are now 3 and 5 months and i can see the other side and enjoy my time with them. And one day new mamas, you will be thankful for that random might when your older little one wakes up at 2 am needing you and you get to snuggle her when the world is quiet :)
How do you do it? How do you manage to put into words what so many women feel but cannot communicate? I wish I would have had this 6 years ago with my oldest. You are an amazing woman, mother and writer Lisa-Jo. Thank you so much for sharing your gift with us and make no mistake, it is definitely a gift!
THANK YOU LISA-JO!!! I’m a first time mommy to my wonderful, gorgeous, amazing son Logan (4 months) and have said to myself so many times since his birth – “people lied to me about this experience”!!! What is it in our society that makes us feel we have to present ourselves as perfect? Instead of saying “fine” when asked, let’s please call it how it really is…we are exhausted, scared to death, a little crazy, and SO in love that it doesn’t matter!!! Can we collectively let go of the guilt, and just support each other instead? This post supports my conviction to tell the truth no matter the sideways looks or backward glances – it’s hard (really hard) to be a mommy, but it’s so worth it. Three cheers for mommies everywhere – we’ll make it through!
I think your right on. I have always asked my self since becoming a mom 2 years ago why my supposed friends lied to me. Needless to say I have since found a new support system with wonderful friendships, but I felt like a jackass at the time. Starting with pregnancy. All my friends at the time loved being preggo and had their fb page swamped of every ultrasound picture and great remarks about the glow of pregnancy. I got pregnant a d was like what the hell is so great about my head being in the toliet, and when did the blissful glow start. After delivering I did have a strong bond with my daughter, but of course everyone had their opinion. My daughter is 2 and for me this has been the hardest stage. That’s another thing I don’t understand is why moms don’t talk more about the struggles of the toddler phase.I feel more alone now then when I did when she was born. Everyone seems to disapeer as the baby turns into a tot.I feel like I can’t keep my house clean to save my life, my tv is now mostly Dora and my husband and I can’t have dinner without some sort of food or drink spill,screaming because the food is to hot or cold.To top it off we get the so when is baby #2 coming. I want to say when you start spending more time with the first one.I will say it loud and shout it loud that this stage sucks and I hate it. There should be support groups for moms of toddlers.Also for those people who post every five minutes about their perfect family, stop lying and speak your truth.I would have more respect for moms who came out and said I’m struggling today, I want to start a support group for moms with tots, called moms in need, ideas of how to support one a other through these years. Then I would like to send a note to every person who came to my baby shower and ask them “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?
So that’s my vent thank you for reading.
I hear you. You sound almost exactly what I felt like when I had 2 under 3 – I think that was one of the most difficult times of my life. What I have learnt since then, is that if the people who should be showing up when you need help, aren’t showing up… you need to grieve the loss of what should be, and then find new people. There are groups for moms of toddlers. I got stuck in the ‘shoulds’ as in ‘but they SHOULD see I need help!’ ‘when I ask for help they SHOULD help me, instead of telling me to join another committee!’ All of that was true, but it didn’t get me the help and support I needed. It wasn’t until I moved to a different community and had to get out and meet new people that I realised I had some power in the situation. I could choose to go out and look for the friendships and support I needed, instead of going crazy in the situation I was in, with only the ‘shoulds’ to keep me company in the chaos! I know it’s a few months since you posted this, and I really hope things are getting better for you. Hang in there Catherine, I’m praying for you!
I am well past the new mom stage… but this is a good reminder to me… to speak outloud to that new mom I see cradling love in her arms and carrying weary in her eyes… to let her know that I know and that He knows… so thank you for this reminder. And can I just whisper here friend… You do so much, so, so much to minster to the hearts of women and you are a blessing. {hugs} to you today.
This is all the truth…I was a young mum, age 23, on my own with a baby girl in 1997. This blog says it all. I had this beautiful, sweet baby…was underemployed…with a heart condition that nobody could figure out…I had no idea how I was going to pay the light bill or even pay the milk man…I went to church, in my dress that was just off in fit because of my still swollen body…endured advise from the veteran moms and others…I felt very isolated and those nights were, in one way, some of the loneliest of my life… My oldest daughter is now 16, an amazing force of nature, who teaches Sunday school and is headed for Haiti next March for a missions trip…I have two other children, my son (my bonus kid, who came with my husband) and our youngest daughter, age nine…The heart condition, after 11 years of nobody knowing what it was is finally fixed…If someone had told me all those years ago that I would have this amazing family, well on their way…I would have never believed them…I shared this blog with all the young mums I know…this really says it all…thank you for writing it…
Thanks! I felt this way, even more so, raising two grandsons 13 months apart. From diapers to 1st grade. My husband doesn’t understand why I feel so overwhelmed by these two little ones. Even now , 6 years later I still feel overwhelmed and not “fine”. Most of the moms I know with kids this age are 20-25 years younger than me. I’m 45 and going through menopause/craziness! Your blog gives me hope and helps to focus on relationships and not tasks. So glad I found your blog!
As a brand new mommy, just wanted to say through my tear filled eyes….thank you. :)
I’m there. Dreading the day that she stops nuzzling my neck with kisses and stuffing raisins in her cheeks chipmunk style. That whole first year that she slept hardly any and I slept even less it was harder than hard, and I don’t want other mamas to think that it wasn’t for me or won’t be for them. Thanks for linking arms with all of us and drawing our eyes upward to see that we’re mucking through it all the same. Love you sweet sister.
I’m 10 years removed from that stage and I do remember. But I believe your words relate to me even now as we venture through this tween stage with my two youngest. ” . . . already dreading dreading tomorrow. It’s going to be OK. Slowly. Mostly in unexpected ways. And with more mess than you would probably like. But it is going to be OK. Especially if you will let someone in to help carry the load.” So on time for me right now, in this stage that sometimes feels never-ending. Thank you : )
My son is 3 weeks old and I am confused and frustrated and exhausted and overwhelmed and grateful. I, too, never dreamed of (or wanted) being a mama. I hardly played with dolls. I pursued my career and was good at it- but this mom thing? I am clueless and insecure. A few years ago God changed my heart about having kids and I know without any doubt that this is exactly his plan for me. But I have to admit that at 3am I kind of resent His plan. The hardest part- other than the ridiculously difficult task of breast feeding which I was not prepared for- is that I have not really fallen in love with him yet. That is incredibly difficult to admit and share. He is beautiful and a miracle and he brings me joy – but I’m not head-over-heels for him. Yet. Thank you for honestly saying what I am living. Thank you for giving me the courage to live there and the extra dose of grace to extend to myself. And for reminding me that it takes time to fall in love.
Heather your feelings are completly normal.It takes a strong, mentally healthy women to share that. I feel like at some point in the early years every mom feels way. Like I stated in another reply, the hardest for me is the toddler phase. There are days when I don’t want to even interact with her, but I know that’s my issue not hers. I love her deeply but some days I just need to talk to someone who will be honest with me about their struggles
Heather your feelings are completly normal.It takes a strong, mentally healthy women to share that. I feel like at some point in the early years every mom feels way. Like I stated in another reply, the hardest for me is the toddler phase. There are days when I don’t want to even interact with her, but I know that’s my issue not hers. I love her deeply but some days I just need to talk to someone who will be honest with me about their struggles.
Hi Lisa, your story seems to be from my distant past … because my kids are grown. although all narrated “episodes” are memories dear to my heart where all details of my being a mom are imprinted lovingly both the joyful and the harried ones because after awhile, they become classified as mommy moments, regardless.
i am writing to share a sweet moment with my daughter (our eldest of three) — early this month when it was my first time again to be left home alone (our youngest is in his senior year), i received a box of chocolate cookies delivered by mail. and on the delivery receipt it said that it came from my daughter who was at work. i called her to say how much i appreciated her thoughtfulness, and she replied that she sent me the cookies to make me feel better about being home alone. and that to remember that she is thinking about me. after the call, i cried my heart to God to thank HIM for HIS love through my daughter.
Lisa, i may be your “Christmas mom of the future” (like in the Christmas Story) … you have a long way to go, but i tell you, by God’s grace, it is all worth it. And yes, this daughter of mine, had colic in her early weeks, Bob and I were awake most nights comforting her … and she finds it in her heart to comfort both Bob and me today.
thank you for a beautiful read — April
Every time I read your blog I think “Is Lisa-Jo really saying this?! These are my thoughts EXACTLY!” Your words are such a gift! I went to counseling for postpartum depression after my second child was born. Such a blessing. I learned that my thoughts and feelings lost their power when I said them out loud. My counselor even told me I should check out your blog, but I already had! I am tired. Exhausted. Dreading the night and tomorrow, but you’re right, it will be OK.
I wish I had read this 4 years ago when I was so alone in the mommy fog. I am now three kids in, too, and I vow with you to be real and true and encouraging and raw for the sake of new moms and moms still in the thick of diapers and potty training and bedtime meltdowns just like me. I love this especially: Ditch “fine.” Reach for real. Thank you, Lisa-Jo, for being the best mama cheerleader out there!!
So much truth! I am a mama to nine lovely children. I was reflecting today on the beginning days and the One who saw me through and still sees me through most days. When I go to the Lord with my not enough, which is most days it seems, he is generous to lavish me with his grace. He reminds me that he is my creator and he is my child’s creator and he made me a mother. He did not set me in this ill prepared. He equips us with all that we need. When the days and nights are really hard, he is there. We are never truly alone. And he never requires us to be ‘fine.’ This is a lie straight out of hell. Christianity begs us to be real with each other and to lean hard on each other. I so agree with you Lisa-Jo, we need to be honest with each other. You have certainly inspired me to be intentionally compassionate towards the new mamas in my life. I have definitely, ‘been there, done that.’ And just to say, whether it is baby number one, two, five or nine, they are all a stretch of stamina and endurance in the beginning days. But TOTALLY worth it!
What a beautiful post Lisa-Jo. I’m a mom now for the second time around (an almost 3-yr and 3-month old). I have had many moments where I feel I could be losing my mind this time around, & often compare myself to who I was the first time. Thank you for your beautiful words. They will support many moms who are “in it” right now~
I always wanted to be a mother.
That was my career plan.
So, when my twins were born, I felt so ungrateful and bad that I was struggling to cope. I was so overwhelmed and cried a whole lot.
I also remember speaking to all my friends that just had babies and here I was pouring my heart out, telling them i how tough its been for me, and they just smile and say that they are fine.
It felt like I was the bad mother for not coping.
Im still very open about how difficult it is to raise your kids out of joy and not out of fear and how inadequite i feel most of the time.
My boys are such a blessing in my life. I will do in over again in a heartbeat.
Thanks for posting this! There is a lot of insight here and even more that I just don’t get. I’m a guy and hope that it’s okay to not get some of it…lol. Will pass this on to my better half though. Again thanks! :)
Hi Lisa-Jo,
I am a mother of two year old twins. They are my special angels that came to my husband and I after a long struggle. I remember when they were born and how scared and overwhelmed I felt, not to mention how exhausted I became (and still am). That first year was a crazy fog, there I was with these new babies who I so desperately wanted, while at the same time struggling with this sudden life change. I felt so guilty for not being able to ‘cope’… These days, I try to be ‘real’ rather than perfect. Your words help so much, especially on those dark days. I imagine you linking arms with me as we walk this path called motherhood. God bless
I’m sitting here with one of my newborn twin girls asleep on my chest, after a rough night and an even rougher morning, reading post after post and taking in all the encouragement that I can. I am now Mama to four little people under the age of six. It’s wonderful, and scary, and exhausting, and amazing, and today I just really needed to know that I’m not alone. Thank you.
Sadly, the continuity of shared experience from one generation to the next keeps coming unraveled and/or lost. To some extent, this comes from a culture that doesn’t value the wisdom of its elders and which definitely downplays women’s experiences and perspectives. It downplays many things classified as “nurturing.” And yet, we all are part of a web of life. As Hillary Clinton rightly says, “it takes a village.”
Doris Lessing (b. 1919) wrote revealingly of what is was like pushing a pram/buggy for hours all over town in order to quiet a colicky baby son. Adrienne Rich (b. 1929) wrote candidly about her experiences in her motherhood in her 1976 book, “Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution. I (b. 1950) suffered with PPD after the birth of my 2nd child, in part because I’d moved thousands of miles away from many, many potentially stabilizing points of reference. Fortunately Rich’s and Lessing’s books were just out, and they saved my sanity. I find it tragic that women continue to feel “desparate” and “crazy alone,” losing their minds and wondering why no one warned them . . . It’s not really a new experience . . . but it needn’t still be happening!
And yet it does as does the myth would have all of us believe there is such a thing as a “perfect mother.” My colleague, Patti Ashley, Ph.D. works with mothers on these very issues and her book, “Living in the Shadow of the Too-Good Mother Archetype,” will be published by Wyatt-MacKenzie Publishing, Inc. (found on Facebook) in January 2014.
Thank you! Some days are so hard!