Wednesday Wonder: The Moms Are Not All Right
Amid the daily chaos, a lighthearted incident unfolded today, revealing the universal truth that none of us are entirely all right. I found myself standing in front of the wrong minivan after morning drop-off, a momentary lapse that resulted in shared laughter and camaraderie with a fellow mom.
As we exchanged stories, she confessed to a similar mishap last week, and we both chuckled at the shared follies of motherhood. "Anything to help the mom cause!" I quipped with a smile, realizing that there was a profound sense of unity in our shared struggles.
On my brief drive home, cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, I couldn't shake the realization that, beneath the good humor, none of us are immune to the challenges of motherhood.
My husband and I, both avid athletes who met through our shared love for sports, have journeyed together for 13 years, a decade of which has been as a married couple. Yet, the recent request for him to join a climbing day trip left me wrestling with a wave of emotions—hormones from weaning, gender stereotypes, and the realities of postpartum body changes collided. The profound resentment I felt was not just about the climb but about the imbalances and unspoken expectations that motherhood often entails.
The second postpartum chapter has been a turbulent one, marked by conflicting feelings of joy and exhaustion. In the relentless juggle of home and client responsibilities, resentment can be an unwelcome companion. Motherhood demands unparalleled energy, leaving many of us feeling adrift. When I try to express these feelings, as I am a verbal processor, what my husband hears he is not doing enough, and while true, we can probably reevaluate components of our home to better fairness, another raw and very real voice whispers, “What if the problem is just me? And it is really just that I’m broken?”
During my second pregnancy, FOMO became a persistent companion. While caring for two children, one born and one unborn, I grappled with the fear of missing out on adventures and experiences. A simple act, like not tagging the mom in memory because she wasn’t present because childcare became a poignant reminder of mothers' invisible struggles.
Expressing these sentiments can be a lonely endeavor. The internal dialogue, a cacophony of conflicting voices, often leaves me gasping for breath. Is this the new normal? Is this the essence of motherhood? What I know for sure is that each mother has her own voice of cacophony squatting in her head, and we’re all doing so much to survive that we are failing to evict the squatters taking up residence in our hearts. Step number one on the new to-do list: evict the bullying tenants.
As a gender equity specialist, my own journey sometimes feels like drowning. I grapple with the weight of privilege, pondering the additional burdens faced by women at the intersections of race, disability, LGBTQIA+, and single parents. We are not all right.
Forget knights in shining armor. The true MVP is the mom who appeared like an ethereal angel by my side when my three-year-old went from rainbows to a relentless mountain troll in a parking lot at pick-up time. Cue the panic. In a remarkable display of solidarity, this angel secured her own 2-year-old and 5-month-old in the car and swiftly retrieved my 8-month-old, allowing me to navigate the chaos surrounding my distressed gremlin. One impromptu wrestling session and a strategic applesauce intervention later, I drove home, this time effortlessly finding my minivan on the first try. God bless that ethereal angel and eye cream. Otherwise, without it, I look like a haggard witch or mountain troll myself.
In the mundane moments of motherhood, a silent army of everyday heroes emerges, ready to lend a hand and bring solace in the face of toddler turmoil. It's a testament to the unspoken bonds that form in the trenches of parenthood, transcending the mundane and turning ordinary moms into extraordinary allies.
What do I want? I yearn to escape survival mode, to indulge in my passions without interruption, and to be surrounded by a support network that understands and uplifts me. I want it not just in the challenging moments but in the joyful too. I desire the peace of mind that comes with knowing I've chosen the proper care for my children without facing unnecessary battles. Is that too much to ask for?
So, what's the ultimate wish? A collective desire for moms to be all right, equipped, at peace, and free to pursue their dreams. To navigate these turbulent waters together, fostering a community that uplifts, understands, and embraces the complexities of motherhood where all feelings are validated. Join me in community and let’s ask for better for ourselves.
In solidarity,
Beth Anne, a struggling mom
