I am not the mother I envisioned myself becoming.
During my pregnancy with twins, I eagerly anticipated the arrival of my first children, and my expectations of motherhood were highly idealized. I envisioned cradling a sweet newborn on each shoulder, feeling their gentle breaths against my neck. I imagined myself exuding the aroma of cookies and sunshine, cherishing every moment as tiny feet happily kicked. I dreamed of sunny days spent laughing in a meadow, braiding their hair, sharing whispers of secrets, and basking in an everlasting bond of love and adoration. I thought I would embody the spirit of Marmee from Little Women, but with a more stylish appearance.
Then, reality struck as I actually became a mother.
Every parent understands the truth. If I’m singing in the car, it’s often out of desperation to drown out the sound of crying. Our outings to sunny fields are rare, and the struggle to simply comb my kids’ hair leaves me questioning the possibility of braiding it. The challenges of motherhood can be overwhelming; many days, the focus shifts from love and adoration to sheer exhaustion. Yes, Cheerios might be dinner, and skipping bath time has become a norm.
Yet, even in my bleary-eyed state, I find myself longing for the idealized version of motherhood. In those rare quiet moments when my children are asleep—which is a fleeting occurrence—I often imagine brighter tomorrows filled with laughter and warmth. I envision waking up to a day where I embody that sunny essence, and my children and I share a profound connection.
The truth is, motherhood is more about tireless labor than idyllic picnics or tender moments. However, I believe it’s essential to maintain that dream version of motherhood, even if it exists in brief glimpses. This idealism may be woven into our very being; it fuels our persistence, day after day. I recognize that my children are not perfect, nor am I; but occasionally, we find those sweet, fleeting moments of joy.
When I tuck one of my twins in at night, fatigue weighing heavily on me, she will often cup my face in her tiny hands, showering me with delicate kisses and delightful giggles. In those moments, I can feel the love. When I sit down to tie a shoe and my child curls into me, declaring, “I’m in my nest,” I feel it again.
Despite the chaos—a house in disarray, clothes stained with remnants of the day, and a yearning for a break—there are moments that linger. Some days, the demands of motherhood feel so oppressive that it’s hard to envision getting through the next hour, let alone the years ahead. However, it’s crucial to discuss these challenges openly with other parents, to share our truths without hesitation.
At the same time, we must cling to the idealized vision of motherhood. If we abandon this perspective entirely, fewer people will choose to embark on the journey of parenthood, leading to a society of aging individuals in a world devoid of youth and vibrancy. So, even if the radiant side of motherhood only presents itself sporadically, like shafts of sunlight piercing through gray clouds, I will continue to seek it out. Because, ultimately, I can feel it there.
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