Which leads me to my thoughts as of late. As if the parenting aspect of, well... parenting... isn't enough, there is so much social pressure that is really difficult to evade. Social media is mostly to blame, but it's hard to escape the unwanted advice and suggestions from outsiders and parenting veterans. If I could just take a moment to tell the ENTIRE WORLD: Unless I ASK for your opinion (and I will most likely only ask my mother), I do not want or need your advice, regardless of the intention with which it was offered.
I'm going to confess something that's really hard for me to admit and is a little embarrassing: I cry. Not only do I cry, but I cry a lot. Often behind the closed doors of my bedroom after my son has fallen asleep. Sometimes I feel like I am the furthest thing from the mother my child deserves.
Now before you start your "oh sweetie"s and "you're a great mom, honey!"s, let me preface my soliloquy with this: I know I'm not a terrible mother. And I know that because my child cries out for me, lights up when he sees me, is very healthy, and will have more love his whole life than his heart can hold. But none of this negates the insecurities that I often dwell on. I want to assume that every mother feels this way, and feels this way often. That could just be my desire to not feel alone in my suffering- a wishful thinking, if you will. If it's not true, just humor me and tell me that it is.
Back to social pressure. I often am asked the question, "Are you on Pinterest?" Well, yes, I am, but do I frequent the site? No. Why, you ask? Because I don't need to be constantly reminded that my closet looks like Goodwill threw up in it instead of being color-coordinated and labeled. I don't need it brought to my attention that I could be making my own baby laundry detergent and Febreeze instead of paying out of the butt for it. I don't need all these crafty 1st birthday party ideas just so I can post pictures of it on Facebook and say, "Look how crafty I am!" My son will be one and will just want to smash his face in a cake! Do I need to spend $200 at Hobby Lobby to enjoy that? Absolutely not.
And Facebook. Oh, lord. Do you have any idea how many mommy-activist groups there on Facebook? More than should exist. And several of my friends are active in them. Those friends constantly repost things from that group saying I should do this, don't do this, "If you do this your kid could die!", "If your kid eats this he will have cancer when he grows up!", "Breastfeed your child until they're 2!", "Circumcise your son and you're evil!" etc. I want to ask sarcastically, "Is there a check-list for raising a child and I just missed it?" But I'm sure there is. And I missed it. My son is almost 8 months old and I haven't had professional pictures made. I just simply don't have the money. I know babies that are several months younger than Lennox and have had their pictures taken multiple times already. I know it sounds ridiculous at face value, but those kind of things make me feel shameful. Other kids have these supermoms and dads and my kid just has a mom. Granted, a mother that loves him more than he could ever comprehend, and he will never be without, but I still just want to be a supermom.
Lennox had really bad acid-reflux when he was really little. This led to a couple problems. First, he rejected my breastmilk. He would only retain about 1/3 of what he would ingest. I tried everything. I eliminated almost everything we could think of from my diet, but time was running out and he was throwing up more and more. Keep in mind, my marriage ended when Lennox was 6 weeks old. The doctor said that when a breastfeeding mother is stressed, she releases hormones in the milk that can upset the baby's stomach. We put him on a special formula to see if it helped. He took the entire bottle with no problems. I lost my mind. My life decisions were already ruining my son's life and he was only 6 weeks old. My body stopped producing milk because my child couldn't stomach it. I eventually came to terms with the fact that my son was now a formula-fed baby. There are mothers out there that don't want to hear excuses- that if your child is not breastfed, you're an awful mother (and yes, they will come right out and say it). I have so many friends that are breastfeeding and I am so happy for them, and though it's not their intentions to brag, when I see or hear them talk about it, I want to smash my head against the wall. Why can't that be me? Why can't I just stop screwing up?
The second problem that evolved from that fiasco was that Lennox has such an upset stomach that he developed a hatred for tummy-time. Even though he no longer had an upset stomach, you would think you were causing him unthinkable bodily harm when putting him on his stomach. I tried and I tried, and it was a losing battle. This has led to some delaying of motor skills. When our pediatrician told us we needed to start seeing a physical therapist, I became an absolute wreck. Again, all my fault. My poor child has to climb obstacles that I, HIS MOTHER, put in his way. What kind of mother am I? How could this happen?
Side note: he has made leaps and bounds of progress in physical therapy. So much so that he is almost caught up in his posture and upper-body strength. But when I see that other babies his age have been crawling for a while now, it really bothers me. Again, one of the things I so often cry about.
Have you ever heard of Dr. James Dobson's book, "Bringing Up Boys"? Great book. Until you get to the chapter about Single Moms. I wanted to die. He drudges on for almost the whole chapter about statistics on how screwed up boys are when raised by single mothers. But then "redeems" the topic by saying that with God's help, anything is possible! I threw the book across the room and sobbed. Like I needed to hear those statistics. THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH. I know my kid won't be a statistic, but I didn't need to be reminded of the impending battle.
And that's the icing on the melancholy cake.
Now before I get bombarded with well-meaning and encouraging messages and comments, I know I'm comparing myself in ways that I shouldn't. I know that, at the end of the day, I am a good mother. I know my son will grow up to be successful because of the love he has as a support system. And don't feel that I'm some depressed, raging masochist who has it out for the entire world. I don't. Truth is, I've never known this type of contentment before. I am so in love with my son and being a mother. But no, it's not easy. And sometimes I have to purge myself of all these types of thoughts so I can go on about my business.
Everyone knows a mother. You have one, you are married to one, you are friends with one... etc. And some of those moms might be the supermoms that I envy so much. Some of them may not be. Some of them may masquerade around as one but inside are a miserable slave to the same pressures I am droning on about. My point being: take some time and meditate on your role in that mother's life. Are you encouraging? Do you lift them up? Do you criticize and demean, even if your intentions are not so? Do you pressure them to live up to unrealistic expectations? Do you provide them with methods of relaxation? Do you add fuel to their fire of a hectic schedule? Do you love them and constantly remind them how grateful you are of them? Most importantly: do you pray for them?
Being a mother is the most difficult, yet most rewarding, thing one could ever do in their lives. Do we really need to make it harder?
Though a woman can do it alone, she shouldn't have to. Go hug a mother. I guarantee she needs it.
