My Mother, Myself

mommy2 Our daughter came home from college last week for a quick visit (and to get new tires). She had to work this morning and it was still dark when I met her in the living room.

“Why are you awake?”

“I wanted to give you a hug good-bye.”

I’m pretty sure I heard her eyes roll, but she hugged me. I didn’t want to let go.

I’ve said it before, and I have no doubt that I will say it again (and not just because stress and age have turned my brain into Swiss cheese) – I never wanted to be a mother. I was perfectly content being a DINK (Dual Income No Kids) and was looking forward to living my life as Fun Aunt.

Contrary to popular belief, people who are childless by choice don’t hate children. That’s a lie (I told you; I lie a lot) – some of them do. I did not. I loved being an aunt to my brother’s kids and “auntie” to my friends’ children. It was perfect – I could hold the baby until it cried or needed a change and then hand it back to mama! Trust me, there is nothing better than being able to ~~walk~~ run away from a toddler tantrum. Well, that’s a lie (yes, another one). There is nothing better than spending the day getting the kids hopped up on sugar and caffeine and then dropping them off at home with a noisy toy or two. I may not have been a good aunt – but I was fun!

And then the rabbit died.

I became an accidental mother in the days when women had bodily autonomy, and my husband and I spent time discussing our options. We decided that we didn’t have any. We had watched our friends raising kids and decided that we’d give it a shot. After all, we thought, how hard could it be?

For those of you who aren’t parents – well….I don’t want to scare you, but I don’t want to lie (which is unusual for me, I know). It’s hard. Think of the hardest thing you’ve ever done and multiply the level of difficulty by ten thousand.

What’s so hard about parenting? Let me count the ways:

There are too many decisions to be made before the baby comes. You have to figure out what to name the baby (I am still waiting for someone to name their son Justin Case or Justin Tyme), how to decorate the baby’s room and how to HAVE the baby. You can have a duola, a doctor or a midwife. You can have the baby at home, in the hospital or in a bathtub. You can have a C-section or an epidural or choose to have a “natural” childbirth (is there anything natural about passing a watermelon through a small opening? Men should try pooping out a cantaloupe before telling women it’s no big deal).
They’re with you all the time. Unless you live like a celebrity and can afford a nanny or four (or have family members who live close enough to help) you are legally responsible for your child 24/7 until they are 18 and emotionally tied to them until the end of time.
Your schedule is not your own. Oh, there are people who claim that they had their baby sleeping and eating on a strict schedule the moment they brought them home. THEY LIE. Need a nap? Pray that your baby is tired. Need to take care of “bodily functions”? Learn to evacuate quickly or start wearing Depends (TBH, you won’t have time to eat, so this may not be a problem).
Babies don’t come with an instruction manual. Yes, there are parenting books and plenty of online resources – all of which conflict with each other. For every book that says letting a baby cry themselves to sleep sets boundaries and establishes a sleep cycle, there are 3 that insist it creates attachment issues. Here’s the thing: every baby is different. Even babies within the same family may require different parenting styles. Find what works for you, and then tell those who are ‘just trying to help” to STFU. Seriously. Look Aunt Agnes in the eyes and tell her to go F herself. She may clutch her pearls and leave in a huff. It’s okay. You can blame post-pregnancy blues – and if she doesn’t come back, that’s okay too.
You hurt for your children. When they fall off their bike, you second-guess taking off the training wheels. When they fall and break their arm, your bones ache for them. When they get bullied, and battered and heartbroken, it crushes your soul.
You question every decision you make. Nobody wants to screw up their kid. What’s the first thing a new mother says (after “OMFG that hurt, you’re never touching me again”)? “I’m not going to make the same mistakes my parents made.” Instead, you make brand new ones, and you regret them until the end of time.
You turn into your mother. It’s inevitable. Hopefully it will help you realize that your mother did the best she could with the information she had at the time.

I didn’t want to be a mother, but I’m very glad I am. My biggest regret is that I didn’t know how hard it was until after my mom was gone. It’s okay – I know what she’d say. Karma, after all, is a bitch.

karma