This time last year, I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. I could feel it with every part of my being. I had been told motherhood wouldn’t come easily for me. I accepted it and encouraged those around me to accept it as well, but the feelings never went away. My dear friend, Olivia, told me on Mother’s Day 2013, “Happy Mother’s Day.”
I replied,”But I’m not a mother.”
She said, “I have a feeling this will be your last Mother’s Day without a baby in your arms.”
Less than one month later, I took a positive pregnancy test. My son’s journey had already begun. Our journey had started. The very thing I thought impossible was suddenly happening. I was a mother.
As difficult as I thought pregnancy was, nothing prepared me for the reality of being a first-time mom. Callum’s first breath of life completely took mine away. For me, that first time holding him was everything I ever imagined it would be. I knew I was a mother long before, but holding him sealed the deal. I watched his beautiful eyes stare into mine, and I am convinced he saw my soul in a way no one else before him ever has. I felt the tight grasp of his tiny hand, and I never wanted him to let go. I sang “Happy Birthday” with the attending midwives to Callum. He’ll never remember those moments, and I’ll never be able to forget them. He captivated me, my son. He loved me, and as he and I just stared at one another finally meeting the person we’d both waited 38 weeks to meet, I finally felt what it means to become a mother. Or so I thought.
What I soon found out, is that motherhood is more than the euphoric moment that is only glamorized in the public. Motherhood is way more than simply the sleepless nights that seem to be the only thing people willingly talk about with newborns. People have no problems talking about the difficulties of their babies, but what very few openly discuss is the difficulties that lie within themselves in this new role coping with the difficulties of their new babies. I soon found out that motherhood was nothing like I prepared myself for. While I did win the jackpot in the super beautiful baby department, that cuteness was merely skin deep as Callum wailed and wailed for 10 hours straight. Yes, you read that right. It wasn’t just a sleepless night. It was multiple weeks with an upset baby refusing any help from his mother or father to settle down. I questioned myself as a mother. I questioned my instincts. I questioned the very choice Roman and I made on our US wedding day to willingly and openly accept any children into our marriage that the Lord decided to bless us with which made me even question my faith. None of the tips and tricks others suggested that did wonders for their babies seemed to work with mine. I cried with my son feeling the helplessness of not being able to help him, and I felt the loneliness of new motherhood that comes when you seem to the be the only one awake while the rest of the world is soundly sleeping. In those first few weeks, there were multiple times when I just wanted to walk out of the door and leave. I just wanted to go away and be alone. I resented my son for what he had done to me, and I resented my husband since he didn’t feel the same pressure I did. There were (and still are) so many times when I just wanted to leave my baby in his crib to cry for hours and hours. I just wanted my breasts put back into my shirt and not exposed or nursed on. I wanted control of my body back. I wanted my time and independence back. I wanted my marriage back the way it was when there were only two of us as a family. I wanted my life back.
I remember feeling so alone in those feelings, too. Every other mother who opened her mouth about feeling the way I did was attacked. I was even attacked by friends who consistently threw in my face how beautiful new motherhood is when I asked for some guidance with what I was working through. And that’s the thing. Motherhood is the hardest job in the world, but all anyone else wants to see or hear is perfection. It isn’t until you dig deeper and peel back the layers of Facebook and social media appearance and competition that you find the truth that all women who have walked the path before seem to understand and agree upon. Motherhood is hard, and if you think it’s easy, then you aren’t a mother or you have clearly forgotten.
Letting Callum cry in his crib for hours was so tempting. Walking out and just leaving him was what I wanted in that moment. But something kept me from doing that every single time. Something pushed me to continue holding and rocking him just a bit more. Something told me to push through the tears when nursing was painful. Something told me to just keep going a little longer. Something told me not to give up on myself or my child. And what I realized through that, is that THAT is exactly what motherhood is- Simply loving my son enough to stay and fight and cry alongside with him.
Motherhood has been the single greatest challenge and disruption to the life I thought I had. It has also been the most beautiful challenge and disruption of my life. I can assure you no one cheered louder for Callum than me when he held his head upright 90 degrees while on his tummy for the first time. No one laughed harder than me when he rolled over for the first time. No one felt more proud than me when he grasped his toys with his hands and brought them to his mouth to check out. No one smiled bigger than me when that sweet baby boy after weeks of crying, finally broke a smile upon waking up to see me first thing in the morning. No one marvels at his development quite like I do. You see, mothers definitely get the worst of it. We bear the brunt of the work and the responsibility. We are usually the ones doing the late-night feeds with our little ones. We are usually the ones changing the nastiest of diapers. We are the bringers of comfort and security. We are the ones who get the loudest and longest crying fits simply because our children trust us enough to show their most intense emotions they wouldn’t dare show anyone else. But with that responsibility, we also get the very best of our children. After all, they are an extension of our own hearts, whether the child grew underneath our own or came from the love in our hearts through adoption or marriage.
When I became a mom, I realized perhaps for the first time how much my own mother has done for me. I was thankful that life worked itself out in ways to allow her to have more time and flexibility to talk me through the tough moments that feel so isolating as a new mom. She counted contractions with me the night before Callum was born. She sat on Skype with me while Callum cried and cried and encouraged me. She reminded me I was a good mother even though I felt like the complete opposite. The birth of my son has definitely healed many aspects of my relationship with her as I took the position she once held herself as new mom. We had a new understanding of one another. I could relate to her for the first time as we shared struggles. I needed her wisdom, and I appreciated her experiences reassuring me that I wasn’t alone despite living in foreign country away from my family and friends. I saw my own mother in a light that I had not seen before. She’s always been my mom, but finally I saw her as a mother. Thank you, Mom, for just being there for me.
I also appreciated my mother-in-law even more than I thought imaginable. She’s here in Germany and on the grounds of the operation. She hugged me when I needed it. She held Callum in the midst of his crying without an ounce of frustration on her face. She came over and quickly whisked Callum out of my arms and into his stroller for a walk and fresh air just to give me some time alone. She ironed my clothes, cleaned my windows, and made me lunch just to make my life a bit easier. She, too, had a difficult first baby boy very early in her life, my husband. She shared stories of my husband as an infant, and she, too, reassured and physically comforted me in her arms knowing my family was so far away. As time passed, I felt less and less like her daughter-in-law, and now I feel like I am her daughter.
This Mother’s Day (May 11th) is also the same day as my son turning 3 months old. It’s incredibly symbolic that my first celebration as a mother also marks the day my son leaves his newborn phase. I was reminded of this while on a jog yesterday morning. It was raining, and I had every intention of just staying indoors. But I put on a rain jacket, tied up my shoe laces, and just ran. It was my first jog since before I gave birth. Three months of new motherhood have definitely taken their toll on my body and mental health, but the stress just washed off my body while the rain poured hard from above as I pushed my postpartum body to just keep going. The rain just washed away the negativity. It washed away the doubt and regret. And while it didn’t completely wash away the fear of the future, I at least know without a doubt that I am a fantastic mother to my son. I am a fantastic mother because I love my son. I am fantastic mother because I am honest about my feelings of new motherhood in a society that only wants positivity. I am a fantastic mother because I live in a foreign country with a newborn baby away from my normal. I am a fantastic mother because after that jog, instead of simply walking away, I came back home to my son to start the day all over again knowing it would be tough and filled with never-ending crying from my infant son. I’m a fantastic mother because I have never given up on him, not even for a second. For as long as I live, I never will, and that is what I am celebrating this first year as a mother. Simply never giving up.
Head Full of Dreams. Road Full of Promise. 