Finding Your Tribe

There is a weight to motherhood that I can never explain and every mother seems to carry it in their shoulders. It is where I place the burdens of the every day mundane and store my surplus of new emotional baggage. It causes me to hunch over as I nurse my daughter at 2AM. I wonder how many other women are awake and feeding their babies in the dim light of the bedside lamp. I think about how I never anticipated my breasts becoming a bigger deal than they were at 13. There are days where Haven wants to nurse every hour & a half & I feel that I have been reduced to nothing more than a milk machine. I am suddenly alone, hunched over a Boppy pillow, exiled to the couch with 3 seasons of a TV show on Netflix. There are days where I look out the window & feel like the world is just passing me by.
I know that one day I'll be able to leave the house with Haven without feeling like I'm racing against the clock that's counting down to her next feeding or diaper change. I won't have to wave the Very Hungry Caterpillar rattle in front of her face to keep her entertained. When that day comes, I'll remember to be thankful and know that, by-God, I earned a good day of walking slowly through a store without screaming & bodily fluids. It will become less crime scene, more sitcom. I'll also remember not to be smug about it - it will feel like a miracle & the stars aligned perfectly & Mercury is in retrograde & I'll give myself a high five on the way home.

Becoming a mother can be so lonely/isolating at times. In all honesty, I feel like I'm just Forrest Gump-ing my way through the first months of my daughter's life. I'm taking care of this brand new human being and suddenly I'm an adolescent again, thinking: “No one else could possibly understand what I’m going through. No one else has ever felt this way.” It is so overwhelming/frustrating/exhausting.
Keeping with the whole honesty bit - motherhood in these early weeks tends to be all work, little reward. Some days, I have to play the lullaby music on her swing non-stop & I swear it is the tune to the Barney song & I hate that it haunts my dreams. Some nights, bathing her is like trying to baptize a cat.
It can be depressing: paint-your-fingernails-black-and-listen-to-the-entire-Jagged-Little-Pill-album-depressing. So I wasn't really looking for other people who understand what I'm going through but I've become aware of them.

Since Haven was born, I can spot them anywhere; some imaginary coat of arms for my tribe. It is the woman in front of me at the grocery store with bags under her eyes that looks happy just to be out of the house by herself. It is the woman trying to get the stupid stroller to collapse while her baby screams in the car seat.

My saving grace has been the women who reached out to me after I had my daughter to say “I’m here. You can talk. I understand.” They are my tribe. They found me before I knew what to look for, when I was still isolating myself and going through the “mom-angst” thing. They check in to make sure I still have a shred of sanity or send me a link to an article about motherhood that says everything I've wanted to say but didn't know how. While being a new mom is the hardest role I've ever had, it is less lonely after finding women to reach out to.

We're all trying to figure out how to raise our babies with as little emotional damage to them & to ourselves as possible. I've heard the judgmental comments of some women - damning other mothers who don't breastfeed or use cloth diapers or co-sleep.
We need to build each other up and support one another, not tear each other down. We have to find our tribe. I see all of you - in the store, at the park, in an elevator. We're all seeking out someone to be honest with (I'm scared this won't actually get easier, I'll just learn to deal with it), someone that can find the humor in the things that make you want to bang your head against the wall (She waits for me to get back in the bed before spitting the pacifier out again), & someone to celebrate with (She smiled at me today - a genuine smile!)
Talking,laughing & some days crying are all things mothers need to do and are even better when you have someone to do those things with. I know that one day I'll be able to do all those things with my daughter & that is the reward worth waiting for.

Until then, find your tribe.

3 things you shouldn't say to a new mom:

1. "It's so worth it."
2. "It gets better."
3. "It's easier with two." (!!!)