New Mother: A Letter for You

Hello new mother. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Just a few years ago you were…well, we won’t go there. But we want to welcome you to this new place, this cadre of moms. We are everywhere. Driving down the street. Walking to a bus stop. Hanging out at the checkout line at Target. Stopping at Starbucks to get a tall mocha latte {Well, the mothers with older/adult children are lounging at Starbucks. The younger moms are at the park trying to convince their preschooler that eating sand isn’t a good source of fiber.}

You’ve been blessed.

But just because you have been blessed doesn’t mean it will be easy. No sirree. It’s the toughest job I’ve ever had. Some days I’d rather scrub a toilet than take the time to put on the mother hat and calm a tantrum. But I’m going to take a bet and say you’ve had your hard days too.

New mother, your little one is so very fresh. Fresh from the hands of God. I’m sure you’ve read all the books and heard all the advice you can, especially the advice about enjoying it now, because they grow up so very fast. I personally haven’t gotten to that stage of motherhood yet, but sometimes I look at my three year old and can picture him swaddled in a blanket in my mind’s eye.

I could say all of this nice, profound philosophical stuff, but really, truly: having a newborn stinks like a poopy diaper. So it can be hard for a mother to relish every moment.

I’d be lying if I told you that I was full of that “new mom joy” when I had a newborn screaming in my ear for hours.

I could definitely wait to become pregnant again. I looked at other mothers who had two, three, four, five, six, seven…children and thought they were smoking something. Pushing the one baby out took a feat of monumental, non-human strength. And the reward for my effort? Sleepless nights.

I despised the early days. Truly despised them. I wanted to give the Mother Badge back.  I didn’t like it when my husband started calling me “Mommy” instead of “Preslaysa.” I told him to stop doing so, but he didn’t want the baby growing up calling me “Preslaysa.” I lost that one. I felt like my life was over: that my identity would forever be lost in being a “mother.”

And I felt guilty about that. Was it a sin to feel this way? Shouldn’t a mother feel joyful and so in love with their new baby right now?

My heart wasn’t so sure.

I can’t sleep because I worry all the time about everything.

-A new mom

Still the guilt plagued me. Did God look down from heaven at me and say: “Preslaysa, I mean, Mommy,  is breaking all the Christian Mother Rules. Too bad we can’t take the baby back, give him to another mother. We’ll just have to play this one out and hope for the best.”

But I do remember when I felt the first ember of love toward my son. It was in the middle of the night. Husband was sound asleep after giving him the 2 a.m. feeding, but the baby was screaming.

So, of course, dutiful new mom was up.

I went to his room and picked him up out of the crib. Then he stopped crying {of course}. Then we walked to our tiny kitchen and the moonlight filtered through the half-closed, white blinds and shone on his cherubic face. His liquid brown eyes looked up in awe at the moon.

I looked up in awe at him.

But before that moment, all I can remember was that my house was a wreck. And all I did was change diapers, feed a baby, rock a baby, dress a baby, hope {and pray} a baby would nap. And maybe try to find some inkling of time for me.

I wasn’t in love.

Second time around, things were a little easier {a little}, but they were still hard. Second time around, I worried if both children were treated the same way. I wanted to be the Democratic Mother. Read this post about my struggles to be an equal opportunity mother.

But I can’t live life making sure the scales are always balanced. Love is love. Plain and simple.

I know a lot of moms feel this way. After taking all those childbirth classes and reading all those books, you think you’d be excited about parenthood. When all you’re really trying to do is make it.

We know what that’s like.

The point of this letter is to let you know that I’ve been there. Many women have been there. And that it’ll get better. Much better.

And since you’ve heard a lot of advice already, a little more won’t hurt. A few tips:

*Go to bed. Don’t try to be superwoman. You brought forth a new life. That’s super enough.

*Messy house is fine too.

*If you don’t want to entertain visitors, don’t.

*You may get down. You may get depressed. I suffered from a deep, prolonged depression prior to becoming a mother. After becoming a mom, the stress of a newborn caused me to worry that I’d sink into another depression. That’s a normal feeling. If you feel that way, seek out help. Don’t hide behind a Happy Mother mask.

That’s all. {Giving you a hug now.}

What were the early days like for you? If you are going through those days now, how’s it going?