My unfiltered (and inconclusive) thoughts on motherhood, part 1
Don't judge me.
One: People talk about the initiation from maiden to mother. Part of this is moving away from an individualistic mindset and opening to a more collective one. I’ve always perceived this as giving less to myself and giving more to another—my baby. What I didn’t realize is I’d be shifting from receiving care from myself to receiving care from others. Because being taken care of as a postpartum new mother is survival. But letting other people take care of me is hard. Asking for their care is even harder.
Two: I want to write a love letter to mothers. Well, maybe just to my mother. Not only has she become a grandmother, but I see her mothering me in new and beautiful ways. I feel such a strong attachment to her, like I’m a baby again. And in a way I am. A piece of me was born the same day as my son. And that piece of me needs my mom.
Three: As a new mother, the constant feelings of inadequacy and "I'm not doing enough. I'm not doing a good enough job"—bitch! It's exhausting.
Four: Sometimes it feels like my self-esteem depends on my baby's mood. If he's in a good mood, I feel confident, happy, like I’m handling everything well. When he's crying and we just don't seem to be understanding each other (or, just me not understanding him) then I feel like I’m a shitty person. I didn’t want to be the parent who takes it personally when their kid cries. But here I am. I guess I should talk about this with my therapist.
Initiation. Digital collage. Dec. 2022
Five: Sometimes, in the early mornings when it’s quiet and dark outside, I look into my baby's eyes and I see god. And I don't mean that to stoke his ego because the last thing we need is another white man with an inflated sense of self. But it's true. I see something beyond him, beyond me. I see that we both come from a vastness I do not understand. Maybe it’s the stillness of the air or the warmth of our bodies embracing while I feed him. Or maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.
Six: Am I selfish for wanting a baby? And now that he's here, am I even more selfish for wanting some time without him? I didn't want a baby to feel loved. I didn't want a baby to take care of someone. I didn't want a baby to save my relationship. Why did I want a baby? It’s such a profound, fated yearning that trying to describe it in words seems pointless. But I will say this: I didn’t want a baby. I wanted this baby.
Seven: The idea that my baby loves me so much scares the hell out of me. Because I don't feel like I'm a good enough mother to deserve the buckets of love he pours on me every moment we share. It literally seeps from his skin and envelops me. And somehow it just reminds me of how inadequate I feel.
Eight: Recently I see how my relationships are changing, re-shaping around this new identity I have. Sometimes it feels like a complete disconnection from everyone around me. Like even though I have these relationships, I don't fit into them anymore, or they don't fit me anymore. Like they can't keep up with the rate at which I am changing every day.
Nine: Just as I feed and burp my son, dress him and change his diapers, hold him close when he's upset, gaze upon his angelic face while he sleeps, heart swelling with a love I’ve never known before, I think about how my parents did the same with me. And their parents did this with them. And so on. I think about how many warm kisses and soft cuddles and loving gazes it took to make it possible for me to be here to do the same with my son.
As always, I never promise to have the answers, but I sure do love having you along while I figure it out.
Ayu
Do you have answers?
If you’re a parent, what was that transition (from non-parent to new parent) like for you? What were the thoughts and feelings you felt like you couldn’t or shouldn’t say out loud? I would love to hear from you! Respond to this email or leave a comment <3
This newsletter is created on the traditional land of the Duwamish People, past and present. I honor with gratitude the land itself and the Duwamish Tribe.