Let’s me be honest here: I do not have the “maternity fiber”. La fibre maternelle. I just don’t.
Even after all these years as a mother of a nice toddler (do we still call them toddler when they start school in three weeks?), I still don’t feel like a “mother” in my head; I do not have the “maternity” bug; I still do not have the “huey gooey” absolute motherly love for my kid (it developed verrrryyyyy slowly, that love); and I certainly won’t stop living my life for the next 20 years for my kid (she’ll have a really busy but accomplished and HAPPY mother as a model and exemple). But I still do take my responsability as a mother seriously.
I’m tired of the people (and society) trying to feed our mind with asinine speech like “Oh, you’ll see! You’ll love your kid at first sight”, “It will completely change your life for the better”, “You’ll be a natural, don’t worry”, and etc in an ad nauseam sweet condescending tone. No, repeating it for years and years won’t make it easier for future-and-new parents, and it didn’t sold the maternity concept to me. I did not felt a gush of “mother’s love” when I first saw my daughter. I was actually ready to cry and panic at the sight of a very dependant human being that I would need to co-raise for the next 20 years. I was internally screaming, fearful and stressed at the fact that I was going to screw up another human in her future.
I want to punch every fucker who still tries to tell me how to raise my kid, how to live my maternity (and my ENTIRE life), how to be a perfect HOT wife with my husband, how to be a perfect employee at work; how to be a super amazing and available friend; etc, etc… I’ll fucking make you eat your own cock/vagina in a peanut sauce if I hear ONE more advice on how to live my fucking life by YOUR standards and what you think is the “good way”.
I went crazy in my mind because yes, even I try to combine all these tips and ways of raising a kid in my life. I was at a point where I was ready to abandon my kid, divorce my husband, and just disappear by any means possible. I just wanted to die.
Yeah, I’m tired of everyone, and I am now starting to fight against these fucking idiots. Because there are idiots.
I’ve dealt with a depressive mindset these last few years: pressuring myself to be present in my house all the time for my kid; cutting in my social life to be present; trying to give the absolute best in term of food, activities, clothes, toys, etc to Nano; trying to be there for El’Mari, and be a “good wife”. Yes, I tried to do it all, have it all. I even tried, after seeing it wasn’t working out, to just concentrate on certain important parts of being a good mother. It was slowly killing me, getting me into a darker mindset. Hiding all your thoughts and reflections on your current life to every one, because you don’t want to be judged, you don’t want to be attacked nor categorized as an ‘unfit’ mother, you don’t want someone calling the social services on you…because you dare call the bullshit on all these lies on maternity and the adult life. People can be fucking idiots when they judge your life, and are especially vicious and unforgiving towards a mother.
But in the summer of 2014, I was starting to go crazy. A new job (in an office, not remote) complexified my schedule to a point where I couldn’t give my best for my daughter. I just couldn’t give her the same time as before, and it stressed me to a point where I developed shingles again (for a 3rd time in my life), and was ready to flee in a new country (and yes, abandoning everyone, even my daughter and husband) or cut my veins. Luckily for me, I had friends who listened to my dark thoughts, calmed my anxiety, and just let me get it all out of my system with no judgement whatsoever. They helped me get it all out of my mind, vocalize my thoughts and desires, and be free to do whatever the fuck I want. Still no judgement. Still only positive verbal reinforcement.
I hated being pregnant.
I hated it for the entirety of almost 42 weeks of pure hell, even if it was, by medical standards, perfect and went well.
I hated that I have a list of restrictions on food; I hated that I was judged if I dared take a glass of wine; I hated that I was judged for my hair colors; I hated that I was judged for my position on breastfeeding (I did not do it); I hated what my body was becoming and looking like (a fucking giant whale!); I hated every fucking minute of it, and I hated the fact that I just couldn’t say it without automatically being labeled as a ungrateful bitch. I hated the assholes who judged my sleep schedule (“OMG, she dare sleeps! Who will take care of her absolute bundle of joy?”, “OMG, she sleeps with her daughter! How dare she!”, “What, she should let her cry for 3 hours in her cradle. A kid needs to be in his own bed!”).
After years of hearing every type of advice possible (and its opposite), I was tired. Exhausted. Scared of screwing everything up for my daughter.
But I was also amazed by the fact that my body was producing a human being. I was amazed when I heard her first heart beat. I was amazed when I had my echography and “saw” her face. I am amazed every day I see her gain more knowledge, gain height, gain more confidence in herself and her capabilities, gain new skills. I am still amazed by the fact that I am helping raise a super cool, super intelligence, super awesome and kickass little girl that shall rock the world and piss off a lot of people in her future. Just like me.
After all these years, I can say that I now better understand my mother.
She had me at 18. Not even starting your adult life, and bam, a kid! I can better relate to her now, on her difficulties she had to raise her kid alone, in poverty, and with probably a depressive mind. Oh, it doesn’t excuse a lot of her actions and decisions she took while raising me, but I understand it. I can now truly forgive her, and be appreciative of her role as a grand-mother to my daughter. She tried her best, with the hand she was dealt with in her life. But now, she’s there, and I can heal my mind over our tormented past and just move on. I can finally have a decent mother-daughter relationship with her.
I also love MORE my grand-mother (both of them), whom took the relay when my own mother just couldn’t do it anymore. I am very appreciative of them: they took the time to raise, love, and educate me even after all their own kids were adults; they fed me, hugged me at night when I had nightmares, and made my childhood a decent time, having to deal with a kid traumatized by tons of shit she saw (and experienced) at a too young age.
And kuddos to my “adopted” grand-father, my maternal grand-mother’s boyfriend, who stepped up and become that father figure I so craved for with time. He had his own shits and mental demons to fight of, he didn’t have the obligation to deal with my family’s shits and past…yet he did. What an amazing man I am proud to call “Dad” today.
Maternity (and paternity, because let’s face it, men also feel pushed to be perfect dads) is scary. People shouldn’t lie about it: it’s serious work, commitment AND responsabilities. It’s not all glory, pink clouds of happiness and love, and happy kids: it’s shit all around in diapers, sleepless nights for years, and lots (and I mean LOTS) of self-doubt and fears of doing something wrong that will get your kid dead or, worse, neglected. But I’m tired of hiding all the ugly truths. I’m tired of fighting against stereotypes, clichés and falsehoods. I’m tired of hiding my desires for something else than motherhood. I’m tired of being judged. I’m tired of restricting myself not to insult you when you try to give me yet another advice on how to raise my kid and live my life.
I won’t be ashamed to crave for something more than being a good mother. I won’t stop saying “Fuck”, I won’t stop being my wacky colorful self. I won’t stop having a career, dealing with lots of social activities, and bringing tons of friends and new people at my house.
I want to be happy, and I think that it’s the best role model I can give to my daughter.