One Year of Motherhood

How can an entire year be simultaneously the hardest year of your life and also the one where the most magical thing happened? How can I love my baby so much, but also acknowledge that his presence has turned my world upside down?

The paradox of motherhood, I suppose.

I feel like I am in a state of celebration of sorts. I survived my first year of motherhood. I won’t sugarcoat it though; it was fucking intense. I wanted to be prepared for motherhood. I waited until I was 34 years old to start trying for a baby because I knew it would be…a lot. I read a lot of books. I listened to a lot of podcasts. I asked a lot of questions. But nothing prepared me for how I would feel and how up and down this journey has been.

On the one hand, I birthed a perfect human, kept him and myself alive through all of these first-year obstacles and stages, and survived insurmountable situations. I cared for and fed my baby while sick (six times!) including while having COVID. We got through two scary ER trips. We survived 6 months of half of our house being torn apart because of mold, fighting with an insurance company, and spending money we didn’t have. I learned how to ask for help with my depression and anxiety. I created a beautiful bond with my baby and breastfed for 12 months. I became more confident in my abilities as a mom. I advocated for my child medically and in daycare settings. I became a figure that I never thought I could be - a good mom.

On the other hand, I lost myself. I feel like a stranger in my own body. My body feels and looks different. It’s been stitched up, filled up with milk, decorated with hives, gotten accustomed to sweating, become droopier, and bears the evidence that emotional eating is my norm. My brain feels like it doesn’t work right. I am constantly searching for joy and coming up empty. I am in a constant state of hypervigilance because I feel like (and life has proven) that the next bad thing is just around the corner. The last time I remember feeling this way I was drinking and using drugs. The feelings are similar - numbness, apathy, hopelessness, feeling like my life is not my own. 

My main goal before becoming a mom was not to lose myself. To keep doing the things I loved. To take time for me. To keep my own identity while also being a mom. I wanted so badly to do these things, but this past year I felt like I had no choice. Simply surviving, feeding myself, completing work, and getting sleep were the most I was able to do. And because of this, I became angry. I became jealous of other moms who seem to have it all - abundant work, following their dreams, mental and physical health, happiness, thinness, etc. I would make a bit of progress at CrossFit then be sidelined with a cold and have to start all over again.

Because of all these circumstances, being forced to quit my last job in June 2021, missing my Dad, becoming a mom, and grieving my old life, my mental health has not been in the best state. I feel sad about feeling sad. You may have noticed I haven’t published many blogs lately. I still haven’t finished my book. I haven’t sent out my newsletter. Writing became a luxury until I was reminded it’s a creative outlet and I am allowed to put myself first.

Motherhood has been one of those earth-shattering, life-altering, changes-every-aspect-of-who-you-are moments. Just as my world was turned upside down with the loss of my Dad, so was it when Alonso was born. I am not who I was before. Everything has come into question. Who am I? What do I want? What will I do?

Motherhood has also been absolutely incredible. I made a human who hugs me, calls for me, comes walking in my direction for comfort. I have felt the most at peace when he’s in my arms falling asleep. I still look at him and shake my head in awe. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he’s mine.

Though there has been tremendous pain there has also been tremendous beauty. Mirroring just how life is meant to be.

I guess that means I’m on the right path and I’m doing just fine.