To my beautiful girl.
There is so much I want to say to you its hard to know where
to start. Lessons I have learned from life the hard way with heartbreak and
tears, and friendly advice from one girl to another. I want you to know that I
will always be here for you, I will always love you, even when you make me crazy.
You will always be my baby girl, and I will always be your momma.
My sweet child, in the 8 months you have been on this earth
you have taught me more about life than I have learned in the 24 years I have
been alive. Because of you I have broken down and examined every tiny piece of
myself and the way I fit into this world.
You and I started out with a bad hand, you were my 2nd
baby, giving me two babies under two, your father had just learned that his job
was in jeopardy, and I was enrolled to finish up my degree three weeks after
you were born. You had pretty extreme colic that was aggravated by almost every
thing I ate which severely limited my diet, and you screamed from pain well in
to the early hours of the morning. I was exhausted, physically, mentally and
emotionally. I was hungry, and tired, and could not for the life of me make you
feel better. I felt as though we couldn’t bond, that I had failed as a mother
because I couldn’t ease your pain. I felt hopeless, like there was no way to
make the crying stop, and my patient, caring ways quickly changed to
disconnected survival. Instead of feeling the desire to rush to you when you
cried, I prayed that anyone other than me would pick you up and try to help
you. There were moments in the middle of the night when instead of singing to
you I was begging you to sleep and shouting at you “nothing is wrong, you wont
nurse, you don’t have a wet diaper, stop crying!” I had completely lost sight
of the Mary Poppins mother I had once been and had transformed into an evil
green witch. I hated myself, I hated myself every time I was cold with you. I
prayed constantly for patience, for love, for understanding. I desperately
needed a break, to step outside and clear my head so I could come back in with
the kindness you deserved while you worked through this horrible stomach pain
that you had been suffering with since the moment you entered this world. But
there was no break, there was hardly time to eat, you and your brother were all
consuming (as you should be as babies) from sun up to sun down, satisfying the
needs of two small children with no ability to care for themselves required
more than I knew how to give, and I wasn’t learning fast enough.
I carried so much guilt, so much
shame. I didn’t want anyone to know that I had shouted at a innocent 2 week old
baby because she wouldn’t stop crying. I thought I was a monster. What was
wrong with me. Not only did I shout at you, but every single time you cried
your 18 month old brother would start pulling at me, desperate for the
attention he knew he was about to lose when I picked you up to try to sooth
you, so I would shout at him as well. I felt trapped and overwhelmed. It was
two against one and I was losing miserably.
As the months rolled by your pain
eased and you became this beautiful bubbly little girl. Your brother became
slightly more independent, and the two of you began playing together more and
more. My frustrations were replaced with laughter and the nights, though still
long, were becoming easier. But I still held on to the guilt and shame from my
horrible failings as your protector. Finally I opened up to a close friend of
mine whos parenting I strongly admired. I was terrified because I was certain
she would think I was a three headed monster. Surly she had never treated her
children that way. I was met with a much different reaction. Not only did she
treat me with kindness and compassion, she shared similar stories. She listened
to my confession and met them with equal confessions and offers to help when I
needed it. She told me I was still a good mom. And that it was healthy for her
to hear me say these things because SHE always felt like she was the three
headed monster and that I was the amazing compassionate mother. Finally I could
breathe. My mentality shifted. While I still felt horrible that I mistreated
you in your time of need, I finally realized that I am a mom, but I am also a human. While I will always hold myself
to the highest standard of parenting possible, I may not always reach it. I
will do my best to be on the floor playing with you and your brother whenever I
can, but I will no longer beat myself up if you have to play alone with your
toys for 20 minutes while I cook dinner. I still pray to god for patience and
kindness, I ask him to keep me from shouting and remind me how little you are,
but sometimes I still fail. I still have days where after telling you or your
brother no in a nice voice and suggesting an alternate activity for the 50th
time, I shout, more than I should. I am human, and I am doing my best. My
shouting does not take away from how much I love you or your brother, and I
will never accept it as the way I am willing to talk to you two so it is
something I will continue to work on every day. However I will not hate myself,
and walk around with shame for being human any longer. Because I am a mom, but
I am also a human.
I am telling you this baby girl,
because there will come a day that you will have babies of your own, and you
will want to be everything to them. You will want to be perfect in every way.
You will read books about discipline free parenting, you prep every cranny of
your house to make sure it is safe for this perfect little human to live in,
you will consult doctors, friends and google the first time your baby sneezes.
You will stay up all night long singing lullabies to sparkling little eyes that
refuse to close, and every once in a while, you will lose it. You will slip and
say something out of frustration that you will then punish yourself for for
months on end. You will believe that you are the only person who has ever been
so mean to such a perfect little being. You will hold back this horrible truth
when you are around your friends and you will feel so isolated, all because in
a moment of weakness you shouted when you shouldn’t have.
Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself my
angel. Don’t hate yourself for being human. Children push you far beyond your
breaking point and as a parent you are supposed to stand there on the verge of
insanity, and respond with love. It is impossible, yet we do it. 99% of the
time, we pick up that tiny human that is yelling and kicking and telling us NO
in their meanest voice, and we tell them we love them while their little limbs
flail at our face, but every once in a while we shout back. We all do it. We
just don’t talk about it because we are too busy filling ourselves with shame.
I want to change that.
Since
that first day that I told my friend about my terrible horrible secret I have
been a woman unstoppable. I have been extremely honest with far too many people.
When someone asks me what it was like to have a infant and a toddler I tell
them how hard it is in the beginning, I tell them about the frustrations and
the hardships. I tell them about the times that I responded in a way that I shouldn’t
have, and almost every single time they thank me for being honest because they
have felt that way too.
Baby girl you are going to be an
amazing momma some day, and when you are I want you to promise me that you will
know that every day that you wake up and try your best is a day that you have
succeeded. Your babies will love you, you will be the kind of mommy that your
friends look at and think “she would think I was a horrible person if she knew
that I shouted at my child because she is so patient with hers.” But you will
have your moments. They will come fast and leave just as quickly and you will
feel terrible. So please know my sweet girl, how amazing you are. How loved you
are. You are learning as you go. There is no manual. Its hard, really hard. But
sooo worth it. Don’t lose faith my
angel, you’ve got this.
