We all see moms taking care of their kids, smiling, laughing. But motherhood isn’t a walk in the park. It takes many shapes and is different for everyone. I won’t say every mom finds it hard or that her life changes 200%. But for me, it had a cost.
It started before her. My body was already a struggle. I took medication to help me get pregnant, and month after month it didn’t work. My mind went down. The doubts. The feeling that my body was failing me.
When it finally worked, I couldn’t believe it. The first trimester brought a few scares, the second complications and six months of bed rest. The days got long. My husband cooked my meals and carried me through.
The first 20 months with my daughter went alright. She was easy and a fast learner. The only hard part was her sleep, and when I say hard, I mean it. For months she would only sleep on me, and the smallest movement woke her for hours. So I stayed still for 12 hours a night. I couldn’t go to the washroom. I had no time with my husband. And yet, in the dark, I would look down at her sleeping so peacefully, and it was the sweetest feeling in the world. Both were true.
Then my body changed again. Feeding became painful, and within a week I had to stop at 20 months. I took medication to stop my milk. After that came the weight gain, made heavier by steroids and constant inflammation in my body. I was tired, and I was disappointed in myself. I wanted to work on it, but I couldn’t.
Then came the guilt. Guilt for not taking time for me. Even alone, I couldn’t fully relax; my mind stayed on my daughter. Yet there was also a bit of peace, a bit of silence, and I felt guilty for that too.
There’s the guilt of being the one who holds the boundaries. Often I’m the one who says no, who ends up being the “bad parent.” When I scold her and she cries, it breaks something in me, even when I know I’m doing what a parent has to do. I’m not being cruel. I’m parenting. But in that moment, all I see is her tears, and I wonder if I’m doing it right.
And there’s the guilt of the days I can’t control my own feelings. When I’m overwhelmed, tired, or carrying too much, I’m not always emotionally present for her. She needs me, and I’m in the room but not fully there. I know she can feel it.
And then there was a recent breast surgery, which maybe wouldn’t have happened without having a child. I felt guilty for putting her through it. I remember hearing her voice, small and full of doubt, asking me not to go to the hospital. The fear in it stayed with me. Before I left, I was planning what she would eat and what she would do while I was in the hospital. During the surgery, waking up, and recovery, my mind was on her. I couldn’t go slowly, because there was work to do at home for her.
What people see is a mom in public. They see you for five minutes and decide who you are. They don’t see the hidden pain, the hidden issues, the struggles that happen in private. They don’t see the night you couldn’t move, or the month you were sure your body had failed.
I didn’t do it alone. My husband was there through everything. My mother-in-law helped a lot too. My best friend and my mom, though far away, stood by me in thought. They helped, and I don’t take that lightly.
Motherhood has cost me sleep, my body, my time, and some of my peace. But I’m still here, still learning, and still her mom in every way I know how.
And if you’re a mom carrying something nobody sees, you’re not failing. You’re carrying a lot. Be as gentle with yourself as you are with your child.
