Finding Me in Motherhood

I will probably remember the day I found out I was pregnant for the rest of my life. There were about 145 emotions I was going through but its safe to say “shock” was top of the list. I mean, I was twenty-five years old. My relationship was still in the fairly new stage. My weekends at the time also consisted of bar hopping with my friends and then a Sunday of Netflix and mashed potatoes to nurse the hangover. After the initial panic wore off and the excitement started to creep in, I immediately went into planning mode. Anyone who knows me at all knows I’m a planner through and through. I mean seriously, I showed up to every single prenatal appointment with a notebook in one hand, pen in the other, ready to list off my endless questions. My Pinterest was already filled with nursery ideas and the long “safest care seat” research began. Fast forward three months, global pandemic! Hello masks and disposable gloves and goodbye socializing. As a newly pregnant, first time mom, I took this pandemic as seriously as possible. I mean “wash all of your groceries” seriously. There was just no information and I wasn’t about to risk the tiny human who’s health I was responsible for.

I think that’s when I first started to lose myself. I no longer had my nanny position since all the parents were home and suddenly my days felt very lonely. As my belly grew bigger so did my anxiety about weight gain. I mean according to Instagram, the only place you’re supposed to be showing is your belly. So why was it that everything on me seemed to grow at warp speed? My doctors always told me I was on target weight-wise, but I was slowly losing confidence in myself. Whose approval was I even seeking? I had read that stretch marks were genetic and there really was no way to avoid them, but you could potentially decrease their appearance by keeping your skin hydrated. So naturally, I bought fourteen containers of Burt’s Bees body oil and spent a large, and I mean large portion of those nine months attempting to fight these dreaded marks. All you hear when you talk about this is how you should appreciate your body for growing a whole person. And yet, I cringed anytime I looked in a mirror and saw how my once toned thighs now shook aggressively each step I took. And worse, why wasn’t I appreciating myself the way everyone else apparently was?

When I did finally, after nine long months of impatiently waiting, get to meet my daughter, I knew my life was forever changed. It’s kind of silly because you think you’ve already come this realization while you’re pregnant but for me, the full weight of this hadn’t sunk in until the moment I looked into her eyes. Suddenly, nothing in the world was even remotely as important as this chunky, beautiful, feather-less chicken look-a-like staring up at me. Now, this did not mean that my insecurities all magically disappeared, although they did dim. I remember I did eventually venture to the long mirror hung on the bathroom door at the hospital and once I saw my body, unrecognizable, I began crying. Ugly crying. And there would be many moments like this one. There would be absolute uncertainty in my parenting and feelings of doubt that would creep in at the worst of times. But in these terrifying moments, I also found my confidence. It was in those nights where I was woken up to a crying newborn for the sixth time that I found my patience. The endless unsolicited advice I received as a new parent allowed me to learn to set healthy boundaries which nurtured my mental health while simultaneously learning to accept help when I need it. The google rabbit holes, which I strongly recommend avoiding as a new parent, taught me to trust my own instincts (not some random person on the internet) because no one knows my child the way I do. Many people will tell you that once you have kids your life is over. For me, I believe it’s when my life began.