Wisewords

Drowning In Motherhood by Saralee Sky

Recently my husband and I were out in our garden when a neighbor came by on a walk with her family. Her six-year-old daughter, Shayna, was on her bicycle, her one-year-old son, Jared, was in the stroller, and my friend and her husband were on foot. The two men started talking, and I talked to the kids and their mom. At one point my neighbor said, "Shayna has her special time, Jared has his special time, my husband has his personal time, but where is the Me Time? Where is Barbara's time?"

I wanted to say, “Just wait a few years!” but I knew this was not what she wanted to hear. I could sympathize as I watched them walk away. I had been there, too. We all feel like that at some point I am sure. What about mothers who have three children or four or five? Their Me Time is postponed even longer I suppose. At some point we all feel like we are drowning in motherhood.

As a brand new mother, I was overwhelmed for the first six months of my baby's life. It seemed like the only time I was able to sit still was when I nursed my baby. Gradually I was able to relax into the role (after the 3 month bout with colic ended) and I even read a book while Joe was nursing. I would lift my eyes from the page and see him peering intently at me as he nursed. I had so much love for this little person who had such a huge presence, such great awareness, and who was so dependent upon me. And I was terrified I was going to do something wrong that would scar him for life.

I gradually settled in to motherhood and was quite content to have this one child. We settled into our routines and there was time every day for me to read or sew. I was also working part time. But time was slipping away and the peer pressure was intense for me to have a sibling for Joe, so my partner and I decided we had better have one more soon or not at all. When Joe was four years old, I got pregnant with my second baby.

Gabe was born in late April, three weeks early. Still, I was ready for him or so I thought. As the mother of two I felt more comfortable in my role. I was able to take care of both of my boys, pay attention to them, feed them, do their laundry, etc., without the periods of overwhelm or panic I experienced the first time around. The only problem was, I had no time left over for my self. No reading time, meditation time, daydream time. Someone always needed me. I was always holding one of the boys. I got very weary of being touched all the time.

I felt like I was always tending to everyone else's needs and demands. The addition of a second child changed things exponentially. The time and attention it took to go from mothering one child to mothering two children didn’t just double, it quadrupled! Where was Sara in all this? I was losing sight of my self. I was drowning in motherhood.

I do not mean to say that I resented my role as a mother, or that I resented my children (and my partner) for needing me as much as they did. I just felt like I was losing my own identity as I tended to the needs of everyone else. Learning to take some time for just me was very hard for me to do.

When Joe was eight and Gabe was three, I went to graduate school. I met a woman there who was also a mother and in the graduate program. I complained to her about not having enough hours in the day to do my school work and take care of the house and the kids, figuring she would understand and commiserate.

“How many kids do you have?” she asked.

“Two,” I replied.

“Two? Two kids are EASY! I have four!” she said. “Just picture the amount of laundry I have to do each and every day. The meals, the home work – theirs and mine – the soccer games. Two kids are a walk in the park!” She certainly put my problems into a new perspective. I stopped whining, at least to her.

Now, looking back, I can see that there are cycles to mothering. Some of the time it feels like we are in the flow, moving from one chore to the next, anticipating and meeting the needs of our children, our partner, our home, our career, the dog. It begins to feel like a complicated dance that only we know how to perform. We swirl and leap and dip through our days, making sandwiches, changing diapers, reading stories, writing articles, folding laundry, making dinner as though we were born to it. A professional mother, capable and strong.

And then one little thing too many goes wrong in one day. The baby and the dog get sick at the same time. The car brakes down on the way to the doctor’s office. The computer crashes just as the dish washer overflows. And it all comes crashing down.

Instead of dancing the intricate steps of motherhood, skimming along the surface; we are now drowning in motherhood. My friend Teri - one of six kids – remembers her mother locking herself in the bathroom and sobbing. My husband Jer – one of five kids – remembers his mother getting out the wooden spoon. I remember feeling like I couldn’t breathe, there just wasn’t enough air!

It is all OK. It will all right itself again. But we may need the help of a sympathetic partner or grandparent or friend, who can step in and take something off of our plate just for a while. As soon as everyone is in bed and they are asleep with their angelic little faces peeking over the covers, the love for these precious beings will begin to flow forth again and the strength to carry on as a graceful, loving mother will re-emerge.

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