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What If I Let Go Of My Ego?
Picture this: I’m crouched outside a public restroom stall, a bag stuffed with 30 library books dangling precariously from my shoulder (because if you’re homeschooling, you’re a book hoarder). My 3-year-old is wailing inside the stall, having decided he’s ready to take the plunge solo—“just like big brother!”—but he picked the one toilet that’s about to erupt like Old Faithful. Meanwhile, my 6-year-old is scaling the sink like a mountain climber, trying to wash his hands at an impossible height, while my 2-month-old is clinging to me like a tiny, delicate sloth. To top it off, I’m not even equipped with my trusty ring sling today; a rogue smoothie explosion in the car left my favorite baby carrier smeared in blueberry kale mush. (I was really trying to be healthy, but we’ll get to that later. Hint: I ended up in the pantry later, drowning my sorrows in chocolate chips, but I digress.)
Now, back to the restroom. At this chaotic moment, the most stunning young woman in the world walks in.
There we are—a frazzled mom juggling books and a baby, a howling toddler, an older sibling creating a soap bubble mountain, and a floor covered in the fallout from my impractical diaper bag—when this lovely 22-year-old in workout gear asks, “Do you need some help?”
It’s the third time this week a stranger has stopped and asked that question. The first encounter was on a hilariously windy day where I battled a cart overflowing with groceries, a rogue apple, and a parking lot that felt like a scene from a disaster movie. The second? Yep, another trip to a public restroom, except this time my hands were full of oranges (don’t even ask). Each time, the same cast of characters was present: the overwhelmed mom, the baby on her chest, the shrieking preschooler, the messy boy, and the heavy, chaotic diaper bag, with a concerned stranger thrown in for good measure.
“Do you need some help?”
Really, how helpless do I look?
Each time, I bristled at the implication that maybe I was struggling and needed a hand—who, me? This is motherhood; I’m supposed to juggle all of this and more while carrying the weight of the universe on my back. So, I responded the same way every time: “No, thank you. We’re fine. Really.”
Except I wasn’t fine. In fact, I’d later find myself in the pantry, commiserating with my stash of chocolate chips.
What if I had been honest? “Yes, gorgeous stranger, please help. Remind me that I was once 22, too. Remind me that somewhere beneath this diaper bag, these stretched-out jeans, and the chaos of motherhood, I’m still that girl. Yes, it’s been two months since I gave birth, and yes, I’m still in these jeans. Remind me to see the beauty in myself, right now, as I am—messy and overwhelmed.”
And you, kind grandmother, loading my groceries and sharing tales of your grandkids, please help me. Tell me you once felt as I do now, and that you’ve also had days when you sat in your car, crying before you could drive away. Share with me that you’ve doubted yourself but still made it through. Even if you don’t know me, please say it’s going to be okay—that my children will be alright and that the world will keep turning.
And you, fabulous octogenarian in your sharp suit and warm eyes, please shake me awake. Tell me this whirlwind is just a fleeting moment. Remind me that one day, I’ll look back on these days—all the wishes I made to fast-forward through them—and I’ll cherish the chaos and joy of early motherhood.
What would have happened if I had just accepted their help? It’s challenging for me to embrace grace and kindness. Most days, I feel like my wailing preschooler—trapped in my own ego, struggling to break free. If I could just quiet the noise inside, perhaps I’d hear that calm voice saying, “I’m here. Let me in.”
This article was originally published on March 6, 2016. For more insights, consider reading our related posts on privacy policies or visit IVF Babble for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
This reflection explores the challenges of accepting help as a mother amidst chaos. The author shares personal anecdotes about feeling overwhelmed and the struggle between pride and the need for support. By considering the value of community and vulnerability, she highlights the importance of recognizing one’s own needs.