I’m hesitant to write this post, to put these words to the page and then release it unto the world. Why you ask? Because I don’t think this is something often talked about. Because I worry about being alone with my thoughts, although I suspect I’m not. Because it is so easy to be judged for our thoughts and feelings. But I am writing it because it is so easy to feel alone, to get wrapped up in our own minds and I am sure, so sure there are other mamas out there who feel the same and just need someone who feels the same.
I am a mother. It’s a fairly new label for me but one I am most proud of. Right after Jeffrey was born I struggled a lot with feeling bonded. Between my preexisting depression and anxiety I was(am) fighting PPD, guilt over how my labor and delivery happened and issues with breastfeeding hat made me dread his next feeding(nursing has gotten better). Overtime, I would look at his face and feel so much love. As my body healed from birth and those early nursing days and Jeffrey grew and became more aware, we bonded.
And so it is that life moved on. Too fast with a new baby as he learns and grows so much each day. “You’re getting too big,” I say to him often. I am in awe of this little person we made.
That’s not what I”m here to talk about. I”m here to talk about the past. Who I was before I had a baby.
We assume mothers are happy right, maybe, I don’t know. I have this idea in my head that mothers are supposed to be happy and perfect. I’m not sure where the idea came from. Growing up, my own mother definitely showed me she was human and not just a mother. But at the same time, there was a part of her that I didn’t see and maybe that part was the human side I needed. I know, deep down that yes I am a parent and he will look up to me and see me as this wonderful person but I am human, I am flawed. So in my mind, mothers are people who are happy and not “human”. I haven’t read any articles or blogs from other mamas who are grieving for their old lives.
So I’m here to exclaim it from the rooftops.
Sometimes I miss my life pre baby. I miss the freedom of being able to work and be creative all day. I miss the freedom to cuddle with my fiance when I really need to. I miss drinking mochas and driving to see the stars at night with the music blaring. I miss sleep. I miss leaving the house without worry. I miss my me time. I miss my time to find myself. I miss the time to work on my quests and be my own person.
Ya know what?
It’s okay.
I can mourn, I can grieve and I can have days where all I want is to have a mocha, some cigarettes an open road with sound deafening music. And I can still be in love with my son and so happy he’s on this earth. I can miss what life used to be. Because I am HUMAN. I am a mama. I am a writer. I am a creative. I am a mama but I am HUMAN and still my own person.
I will grieve and soon enough I’ll be able to find a new rhythm and a better place. I know that life is so much better with him in it than it was before. I’ve learned and grown more in the last 4 months than the last 2 years before he was born. But I still have my moments of struggling with the sometimes seemingly endless bonds of motherhood. I will get there though and for now, I will take a moment of peace when I can get it.
And you out there? I’m sure there are other mother’s worrying about the same thing. I’m sure there are other mamas out there in mourning for the time and freedom they have lost, whether they intentionally got pregnant or not, I’m sure some of you out there wish for a few days pre baby sometimes, just for a moment of peace. I wanted to tell you it’s not wrong it’s okay to feel this way.
It will get better.
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