As a mom, my heart is a vast repository of emotions and memories. I can still feel the excitement of the first movements of my children in my belly—one was like a little fish darting around, while the other flickered gently, reminiscent of a firefly. I cherish those moments when I held my newborns for the first time, their soft, damp bodies pressed against my skin as they let out their first cries. And yes, I carry the memory of the baby I lost, even if I only knew them for a brief week. My heart aches for what could have been, and I carry that loss within me.
Alongside love, my heart is also heavy with fear. I remember the panic I felt the day my child fainted in the bathtub, convinced for a split second that I had lost him. There was also that summer day when my toddler dashed into a busy parking lot, and I sprinted after him, my heart racing faster than my feet.
While I anticipated the love and protective instincts that would blossom upon seeing those two lines on the pregnancy test, I never imagined the multitude of responsibilities that would take residence in my mind. It seems that my little ones are blissfully unaware of their busy lives—they need homework completed, clothes that fit, and snacks that vanish from the fridge at an astonishing pace.
Meanwhile, my husband, bless his heart, doesn’t seem to have the capacity to track all these details. He’s a fantastic dad and provider, but the minutiae of our daily lives often escape him. So, the mental load falls squarely on my shoulders. I’ve become quite adept at juggling it all—perhaps too adept, as I sometimes wonder if “momnesia” will ever leave me. It’s no wonder I struggle to unwind at night or find myself puzzled by simple crossword puzzles my child brings home.
Here’s a glimpse of what occupies my mind daily:
- I keep tabs on each child’s water bottle—where they are, how much is left, and when they’ll need refilling.
- I track my toddler’s bowel movements, noting the last time he went, how it looked, and when the next one might arrive (which is crucial for diaper stock!).
- I know exactly what’s in my son’s backpack, down to the lint-covered mitten he’ll inevitably ask for.
- I’m aware of every pair of pants my boys own, including the number of holes and when they’ll outgrow them.
- I remember precisely when each child fell asleep and woke up, allowing me to predict the evening chaos that is sure to follow.
- I mentally catalog the snacks in the cupboard, always aware of how much is remaining.
- I know where every toy is hidden throughout the house (except for those pesky tiny pieces that seem to vanish into thin air).
- I track the dates of their last doctor and dentist visits, mentally preparing for when I need to schedule the next round.
- I maintain endless lists of items to acquire: library books to reserve, gifts for upcoming birthdays, a ripped bathmat that needs replacing, vitamins to reorder, and those elusive peanut butter crackers from that specialty store three towns over.
- I keep a detailed list of permission slips that need signing, upcoming projects, homework deadlines, PTA meetings, and how many make-up playdates my eight-year-old thinks he deserves.
I know that one day, I will reclaim some mental space for myself. I’ll eventually find time to read a novel again (for now, anything over 800 words feels overwhelming). As my children grow, I hope they’ll start to manage some of this information themselves.
For now, my brain holds it all. It can be exhausting, and I admit I sometimes feel resentful. However, when I pause to reflect on how fleeting these moments are, I find beauty in the chaos. Each detail—from the patched jeans to the curls that need trimming—defines their lives and mine as their mother.
These two wonderful boys have already captured my heart, so I suppose it’s okay if they take a few brain cells along the way—though I do hope to reclaim some someday.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is filled with joy, worry, and a mental load that can feel overwhelming at times. As I navigate this busy life, I embrace the beautiful chaos that defines my days.