My head is just pounding. My hormones are going insane after finishing breastfeeding. I’m completely exhausted. I’ve been going to bed before 9 pm the last few nights because I can’t keep my eyes open. T is napping right now. My body is screaming for sleep. But instead of sleeping, I started a load of wash, made coffee, and sat down to write. I like to think that it’s dedication, but really it’s because I’m an idiot. It’s because of all the Should Be’s in my life.
What is a Should Be, you might ask? It’s the annoying tape that plays in my head telling me what to do. I should be getting something done while the baby is sleeping. I should be doing the dishes. I should be writing on my blog. I should be able to handle all of this. I should be able to do it all, all the other moms do. And so I do. I do the laundry. The dishes. Drink the coffee. Write my blog. I put my well-being and needs aside for my family. I suspect that I’m not alone—at least, I hope I’m not. I’m guessing a lot of moms have moments when they are feeling inadequate or not good enough, or just plain out ignore their own needs for the needs of others.
Should Be’s really ugly sibling, Shouldn’t Be, is also someone I’m very familiar with. I shouldn’t be so tired, the baby has been sleeping through the night. I shouldn’t be at this weight anymore, it’s been over a year since birth. I shouldn’t be having these feelings of depression or anxiety, my life is great.
I tell myself a lot of things, and none of them are helpful or uplifting. Now that I think about—write about—it, I’m even harder on myself than I thought. I am completely self-deprecating. This is a scary realization. I have worked—and do work—hard my entire life, and here I am giving myself zero credit for anything I’ve accomplished. I’m berating myself about every decision I have made. This really saddens me. Why are we our own harshest critic?
Now what? Literally, I was just sitting with my chin in my palm leaning over staring at this half-finished post. I wish I had some brilliant introspective solution for you. I want to write about how we shouldn’t be desperately need to be kinder to ourselves, to marvel in our physical and mental accomplishments as a woman and a mother, and take the time to give ourselves what we need. These are all so true, but also feel so trite. I don’t know how to actually accomplish any of these things. The best I can do for you right now is to tell you that if you happen to be reading this and nodding your head along with me, saying “Yup, me too. That’s me,” then you aren’t alone.
You aren’t alone in your ups and downs. You aren’t alone in your eternal search for answers of the right thing to do for your kids. You aren’t alone in feeling so devastatingly alone when you sit at home wondering what to do next with your toddler. You aren’t alone if you’re pumping at work in a closet. You aren’t alone if you’re crying because you haven’t slept in 24 hours. You aren’t alone if your three year old is screaming in the middle of Target. You aren’t alone as a mother.
Maybe I can take some solace in the fact that none of us really have any answers. All of us push ourselves to our own limits and beyond. We as the universal mother are just doing the very damn best that we can do. And that has to be enough, because that is all we can do.