Motherhood Taboo

I do not enjoy motherhood. I do enjoy my children. A statement quite inflammatory for most to absorb, it remains my reality regardless of whether it is comfortable for myself or others. I do not enjoy motherhood. But, I do enjoy my children.

Motherhood is messy, stressful, all consuming. We ache, physically and mentally. We run on fumes, expected to carry on in a world where female pain is not only insignificant but unacknowledged as even existing. Women run the world in not so much secrecy as in denial. Our existences, our experiences, our feelings, our voices denied by patriarchal systems and structures created by and for men. Though not the primary issue in this writing today, it is a significant issue in the existence of women and the life of every woman on the journey of motherhood.

Becoming a mother means more than being capable of and committed to love. So, so much more. Notwithstanding the sacrifice, the heartache, the extreme physical pain, and the emotional tolls we endure in motherhood, it takes a village to raise children. In the western world the village is sparse if not non-existent (not unrelated to the issue of patriarchy). Cultivating a village, being in communion, showing up vulnerably in authenticity and truth become other necessities of mothering. Was I really ready for motherhood when it came knocking at age 22? No, no, and that makes it all the more taxing.

Yet, four days after my first child was born I saw within him an infinite love I’d never before witnessed. One that I believed originated in him, through his innocence, but now I recognize as my own love mirrored back to me through him. I never knew I could love so much as that day when I saw my love reflected back to me. Time and time again, motherhood has gifted me much more than I expected.

The recounting of my love would be dishonest without revealing my initial intentions of bearing a child. The deep despair, the inability to see myself, to love myself, guided me on the path of bringing a life into the world, a life I expected to function as a salve to my loneliness. Someone to love and someone to love me in return seemed like such a noble pursuit at that time in life. Though I didn’t get pregnant for this reason, I did use it as an excuse to be careless and to keep the child when I found out he was already conceived. The journey may have began in my desparity, full of shame about being so recklessly selfish, but I remind myself I only knew what I knew. Giving myself the permission to be human in these moments has kept me alive and on the path toward healing.

Now, I am in awe of these little beings, these little humans which I have loved and love me in return. Only now I see them. I really see them. I also see their growth and the lessons they’re benefiting from through my own healing journey. My youngest has lately started giving others hugs and asking what they need when someone is feeling low. My oldest is discerning, leaning on his values, our values, in making good choices in friendships and bringing everyone together despite their differing views. Knowing that the work I’ve put into myself and into my parenting is flourishing in my children’s toolkits is affirming. Aside from knowing they have the ability to safely be autonomous, I love seeing their spirits. I avoid everything I can that might break those wild, fearless spirits. The immense amount of love I have for each one of these souls who chose for me to guide them in this life is indescribable, precious, and everything. I am filled with gratitude not to know they are mine, but to know I have the privilege to know them and love them as they are.

I do not enjoy being the burdened martyr that western culture expects. I do enjoy loving my family in the ways they need to be loved. The expectation for American mothers especially is to forsake ourselves for the needs of the kids, for the spouse, for everyone. Neglecting our needs brings endless praise and reward from a society that values order over autonomy. Laying down our souls to die is not an equitable price to pay for motherhood. However, when my children have needs I will work to meet them or work to show them the ways in which they can self-soothe. When my children need love, I shall give it without hesitation. When my children require guidance, it is my duty and my privilege to teach them and give them the tools to navigate the human experience. Leaving myself behind in order to mother is not a requirement, nor is it even a question.

I do not enjoy the judgement and competition associated with becoming a mother. I do love being the guiding force and example for my boys. Often we are quick to blame mothers for everything. To blame them for their children’s behavior, their children’s appearance, their children’s actions. Blame is paramount in the realm of American motherhood. Rife with comparison, we are taught from the beginning to position ourselves against one another. At least my baby doesn’t act like that. At least my baby has her hair fixed. At least I’m not like her, a bad mother. Each of us knows how hard motherhood is, yet we are conditioned to judge instead of extending a lending hand.

Though comparison is a tempting trap, I’ve come to understand it’s quite useless. Transcending the need for validation in my parenting from the outside world, I’ve been able to focus on becoming an example for my children on how to retain their humanity by showing them the way I move in the world. I love guiding them, teaching them, nurturing them, and loving them through listening to my intuition, maintaining a continuous thirst for bettering myself, and showing myself love and care. Loving myself better so I may love my children better has now been revealed clearly in the motherhood journey.

I do not enjoy that motherhood, while infinitely rewarding, is also recurrently triggering. Holding space for my own pain and feelings while concurrently holding space for the suffering of my children seems like an insurmountable task. A friend and I were on a phone call together when we began to discuss parenting. We discussed my shame around not being enough for my children. We came to conclude that grace is everything. She made me privy to clarity.

“Trust yourself that you’ve been doing the work,” she began. “You must trust yourself that you’ve given them the tools [to make their own choices when times get difficult].”

For years I’ve micromanaged everything. When they eat, how they bathe, what they wear, the why of everything, and where I want them to end up. In buying into the western style of parenting where the majority of nurturing and care fall onto the mother, I once desired perfection. After a while, I needed perfection; it consumed me. It was only when I saw my children as completely without independence that I knew my incessant micromanaging hindered their ability to be autonomous, to make mistakes, to live and learn and exercise their spirit, to use the few tools I’d provided them to deal with the world. The truth is, I will not always be here, in the physical world to protect, to be their overseer. It is impossible. Knowing that I must give up control to the children and the universe frightens me, but I must have faith that now that I have awareness I can continue to build their toolkits and remind them that they can always come to me, even in the depths of their hearts, especially in the depths of their hearts.

Right before our conversation, I was listening to an audiobook by Dr. Gabor Mate. As I heard the words, they pierced my heart instantly. No time for reverberation or dissection, but I also knew there was not a need. The spirit hears and the spirit knows. Though the mind attempts to make sense of it, to lace it with logic, it isn’t logic which makes it more palatable, but it is truth that sets us free.

'“Why can’t we see our children’s pain?” the woman asked.

“Because we haven’t seen our own.” Doctor Mate responded quite simply.

Because we haven’t seen our own. Because we haven’t seen our own. As a survivor of childhood trauma and subsequent PTSD, his words cut through me like a knife. Everything I’d been missing, searching for to soothe this void in my knowing and void in my feelings cut me sharply. Mourning began in that moment, deep within my soul. Mourning for what I thought was my children, for the lack of understanding they had carried because of my woeful deficits. Yet, mourning still overwhelmed, even as I shown a light on my failings. Then it happened. The realization of mourning remained not for my children, but for myself. The deficit in my parenting was created when I was forced to shut out my childhood and quiet my needs, quell my emotions. The mourning persisted for not only my children’s lack of guidance and emotional support, but for realizing my own deep sadness in not having a proper childhood of my own. The answer before me was quite plain and simple, yet I’d missed it for so long: How can I possibly recognize my children’s negative behavior as an expression of needs unmet, as suffering which needs soothing through nurturing and compassion if I have never witnessed and soothed my own? I couldn’t. I could show compassion and give my love to them, but understanding can’t be facilitated when I don’t recognize my own wounded inner child, and some of their needs would continue to go unrecognized in my blind spots. All I can do is remain aware, walk in grace, continue healing, and continue loving both myself and my sweet babies.

I do not enjoy being lied to about the nature of the most important job of the free world. Motherhood is beautiful and brutal. Motherhood is a gift and a life-long tether of responsibility, commitment, and heartache. Motherhood is everything, and the downside is that motherhood is everything. I do enjoy living in the truth of my humanity as a woman and as a mother. I find womanhood to be infinitely rewarding and equally trying in our current world. I find motherhood full of wonder, transformation, and deep, true love, and yet, I find myself in the mother role stricken with grief, tribulations, and suffering. Such is life, such is motherhood.

AFFIRMATIONS TO TEACH YOUR CHILDREN:

• Mommy is always available to me when I need help, courage, nurturing, or love.

• I am never alone.

• Nothing I do can separate me from my mother’s love. [from Tarana Burke]

• Respect starts now. I don’t need to wait until I am an adult for anyone to respect me. [from Evelyn (mother.soulwriter @ Instagram)]

• My voice always matters and it always counts. [from Evelyn (mother.soulwriter @ Instagram)]

See your children. Really see them. Trust that you’ve been doing the work and that your babies will absorb it and they will know. Teach your children to have a voice and to use it. And let them know you will always be there, especially within their spirit where they can call on you and hold you anytime they wish.