When I became a mother, I expected the sleepless nights. I expected that breastfeeding might not always be fun. I expected that my body might temporarily (for ten years or so) look like a bag of laundry. I expected that I would have to be more organised than I had ever been in my life.
I did not expect the emotional intensity of mothering. I had no concept of what it felt like to have all of my emotions sucked from me – leaving me dry as a prune and in need of ‘plumping’.
I had no idea that all of my baggage – the stuff I had managed to keep suppressed or hidden under my social-shell would be brought to the surface and pushed into my face.
When *that * happened I had a choice – to ignore it all and push it all back down, (hopefully) never to be seen again – or to ride those emotional waves, like I rode the waves of pain with each contraction when giving birth.
Initially, I tried to ignore it. Eventually, I chose to ride the waves and to let each emotion swamp me. It wasn’t pretty. My emotional state at any one time was well reflected in my outer world. I put on 20kg (44lbs). I caught every cold and vomiting bug, and I regularly had mouth ulcers and cold-sores. I walked hunched over. My clothes were often shabby or stained from my knickers to my coat. The house was in constant disarray. And, I did a lot of crying.
When it became too much, which it often did, I’d retreat into sleep or the cyber-world or later, my research. Then, one or other of the older boys would do something that I didn’t like – something that reflected things that I had been told (verbally or non-verbally) were ‘wrong’ with me. Or, something that showed how immature I really was – and I’d be forced to consciously face what I’d been wanting to stay hidden inside. I didn’t need a therapist to push me where I didn’t want to go. Two boys who, rightfully, needed me, did that…and then some!
Finally, the endurance test is largely over. Number three son, the one that I call Mr Butterfly, is two and a half. The shell which both protected me and kept me in my childhood-state is gone. Instead, I find that I have a different protective layer, this one is a bit like the feathers of birds, it keeps me warm and dry, and allows the opinions of others wash away without dampening my spirits.
Comments that we made our middle son hyper-sensitive, by bed-sharing and baby wearing, are kept with the speaker and no longer hurt. Those people are very good at forgetting that our youngest, and most relaxed son, is also a bed-sharer and was also carried constantly. Comments that our children react to electronics because we have restricted them so much, I can ignore because I know, for myself, that our oldest son had equal exposure, in the early years, as most of his contemporaries. Etc…etc…e.t.c.
Do I regress sometimes, of course. Do I still become frustrated with Mr Hare when he won’t complete things, yes – because that’s what I still do, sometimes, too. Do I cringe when Mr Owl is more socially shy than I would like, absolutely – that’s my childhood reflected.
But I also laugh when Mr Butterfly tells me he’s making a mess – that’s what he’s experienced his whole life. Mess. Upheaval. Change. An evolving mother.
The awesome thing is that, now, I feel I have the wings to soar – to make new patterns for my life – to become the woman I want to be. And it’s all due to three very cool boys who call me Mum. Perhaps, in the end, that’s the most unexpected thing: I, me, the one sitting here typing, *I* am someone’s mother.
What’s the most unexpected part becoming a mother that you’ve experienced?
This is an original post for World Moms Blog by Karyn Van Der Zwet of Napier, New Zealand. You can follow Karyn on her own blog http://kloppenmum.wordpress.com, on facebook (Karyn @ Kloppenmum) or Twitter (@kloppenmum).
Photo credit to the author.
For me the first (and ongoing) thing was that it’s possible to be loved totally and completely without conditions, just for being me. It’s healing! I try never to take it for granted. And my three kids are 33,34,35…
Great post. Thanks for sharing – your boys look fabulously like explorers finding an alien species for the first time!
It is amazing to realise that we are being loved just for being, isn’t it?Certainly it’s something I hold precious too. This photo is about a year old and it was the first time the boys had touched a live chicken – very alien then! Lovely to hear from you.
Oh my goodness I think you’ve just summed up motherhood better than I’ve heard it said. Soar high and long with your boys Karyn.
The most unexpected part of becoming a mother for me is that my emotions (anger, joy, frustration, pride, happiness etc) are intensified and felt 1000 times more strongly than before I was a ‘mum’.
That intensity is HUGE isn’t it Fi. I was a sook with movies etc before kids, but can’t bring myself to watch anything heart-wrenching now…even the range of novels I read have been limited. Pleased that you related to the post, and thanks for the compliment. (A bit tired to soar today – maybe I’ll just flutter around a bit!)
What a searingly truthful and achingly lovely post.
I agree that parenting can be transformative, scraping away layers to what’s real in us. What was most unexpected for me, after devoting myself to pacifism and peace, is how fierce it would make me. My children have had serious medical problems, dealt with bullies, experienced losses. As any mother would, I’ve felt that pain right along with them, but never expected the passionate energy it called up in me. I know any parent would walk through fire for their children but life can be full of fire. Our response seems like superhuman strength but really, that’s what love in action looks like.
‘Love in action’ is a great way to put those moments of intense energy, Laura – I think the amount of stamina I found over those pregnant/baby/toddler years is amazing too. Being fierce when defending the important things in life is so crucial to our wellbeing, don’t you think? And there’s nothing like a Mumma defending her kids!
Karyn,
I’m proud and happy for you. In motherhood, you have to stick to your guns. You have to stand up for what you choose is best for your children, even if the rest of the world disapproves or chooses to do something different. And you are doing just that. It sounds like those boys have made you one strong mama!
The lack of sleep was unexpected with my first. Well, not entirely because everyone warns you, but to the degree that my daughter woke nearly ever night until she was 3 years old. I thought I just had the baby period to get through with night wakings.
But by the time I had my second, I was well primed. The lack of sleep didn’t bother me as much, I was thinking more positively which was an energy boost, and I found time at night to run World Moms Blog (with a lot of help from our editing team!).
Jen 🙂
I know what you mean about the night-wakings, Jen – our second child was our non-sleeper and after the first slept 12 hours early on, it was a heck of a shock to my system too! So pleased that you’ve managed to keep World Moms going – I don’t know how you do it – but it’s such a great place to hang out. 🙂
Karyn,
Your words were very close to my heart. My own mother used to say, “The sun rises and sets with my children.” Of course, you know from reading about my life that the loss of my first born son amputated my soul. I went on to have more children, and my children were definitely my reason to go on living. Now that my children are older and starting to fly, life is different for me in many ways. But some things never change. The intense love for my children will always carry me and I can see that is where your heart is. Continue to love and grow as you have. The power of love is spectacular. It can transform lives. I know it has for my children. My oldest son is a miracle. He survived grief, and disabilities to be a thriving young man. My other two children are also miracles. I am so blessed. You are, too. The best part is that you are aware of your blessing.
Love, Judy
So lovely to hear from you Judy. You have certainly been transformed by your children during what must have been an intensely difficult journey for you. The power of love *is* spectacular, and I am pleased that I am aware of the blessings these boys bring me. Thanks for commenting. 🙂
This is so beautifully written and well said, Karyn! I have to agree with Fi on this …. The emotions are intensified and so difficult to deal with, so much so that it puts a strain between me and so many of my adult relationships (the only place where it doesn’t exist is with the kids). I also wasn’t prepared for “mommy brain”. I had always been so organized and not too forgetful, and since having my daughter (I was not as effected by it when I just had my son), I have become so forgetful. I write lists everywhere, and forget the lists! I’m not sure if it because my daughter is not as good of a sleeper, so I don’t sleep as well, or why it is…but I certainly cannot keep things straight in my head! 🙂
Mummy-brain got me too Maman Aya! I am getting a little more sleep now and haven’t breastfed for a year – so it all seems to be easing. I do wonder, some days, if I will ever be me again!
We moms often talk about all the practical things we learn once becoming a mother. Our ability to function when sleep deprived, taking care of a home, balancing it all. But I can honestly say that becoming a mother has taught me more about myself…all of the real me…the good, bad…the surface and what’s down deep…than any else in my life. It’s been the most transformative thing in my life. I learn about myself through my kids every single day.
And I so relate to how you project your own baggage when you see your kids behaving similarly. In some ways, because my older son is so wired up like me, I have can help him through things in a way no one else can. That’s a blessing. But I also don’t want to read into stuff that isn’t there…when it’s just my baggage getting in the way. Especially as he has started school, I’ve had to get that in check.
Thanks for such a great post!
Thanks, Tara. I understand what you’re saying about reading things into what isn’t there – so good to be conscious that it can happen…perhaps then we have more hope of keeping a little more perspective?! 🙂
Wow, you ALL rock! 🙂 Karyn, your post REALLY resonated with me. I used to feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the responsibility that being someone’s Mom entailed. With my first child I was literally petrified at the thought of doing something “wrong”! The most unexpected part of becoming a mother for me, was learning how to “parent” myself! Through my kids I got a second chance at a happy childhood. I learnt how to appreciate things again by looking at them through the eyes of a child who wanted to know everything! 🙂 I feel so grateful for everything I’ve learnt (and still continue to learn) from my children. They are now 19 and 16 years old respectively and we’re entering a whole new adventure … but I’m not scared any more! 🙂
I’m so pleased you’re not scared anymore, Simona. I couldn’t dress or undress our first son when he was born. He was so tiny only 5lb 11oz, and looked like a plucked chicken. I was terrified that I would hurt him…luckily Craig stepped in, and of course I got used to handling such a small person. I really have noticed the small details in life since becoming a Mum too. Such fun to inspect the weeds in *every* crack in the footpath – I never realised what a range of plants grew there! 😉