How Motherhood Defined Me

Fold my heart up small
Or break it into pieces
Find somewhere and keep it there
Take it when you go

- Jonathan Coulton "When You Go"

Is it any coincidence that bleeding hearts are in full bloom around Mother's Day? To me, bleeding hearts always seemed like nature's perfect metaphor to explain the joy and heartbreak of motherhood. 

The moment that I held my baby sister, I knew that I wanted to become a mother. I was a naïve and selfish 12-1/2 year old and suddenly, in that moment, I was forever changed.

But helping out with my baby sister was a very saccharine and unrealistic view of motherhood. I was able to dress her, feed her, take her on walks and show her off. (Sounds like playing with a doll, right?) I never dealt with nighttime feedings, illnesses or overwhelming exhaustion. I was well-prepared to love a baby, but woefully unprepared to deal with my own.

The birth of my own motherhood was less a bundle of rainbows and cuddles than a giant storm cloud filled with unexpected bursts of painful lightning and downpours. Our first child was born severely developmentally-disabled. Nevertheless, as you do with all storms, you weather them and you do, eventually, find the rainbows. I was forever changed by Andrew’s birth and existence in this world. Throughout his 20 years, his life would teach me that every life touches others, no matter how fragile and/or broken.

Dan came along 11 months later and taught me that there was still hope. But sometimes, in that hope, you realize that, as the saying goes: “Motherhood is the hardest job in the world.” I thought back to helping out with my sister. Where was the constant joy and excitement? Oh yeah, it’s buried inside my sleep-deprived self. Eventually, we figured out how to parent. Honestly, who sends people home with a human with no instruction manual? For God’s sake, you get more information when you buy a new bike!

When Maria came along, our little princess, I was beyond the moon with excitement. And, with a bit of experience under my belt, I learned to go with the flow and not sweat the small stuff. There was joy and energy in our house and a LOT to do. Just because there’s a new human in the house, doesn’t mean the others take care of themselves.

Oh yeah, and I had a full-time job.

I was born and raised in the 60s and 70s. By the time I went to college, we were constantly given strong messages of female empowerment and “having it all.” I’ll even go so far as to say that not wanting to have it all would have been frowned upon. I wanted it all, but at what cost? Eventually, I decided to abandon my career for family. My brain was on overload and I was doing no one – my kids or my employer – any favors for keeping up the charade of being “well-focused.”

Here’s the big problem with becoming a stay-at-home mom. In the age of empowerment, having it all and “leaning in,” it doesn’t make for great cocktail party introductions. How do I answer the question: “What do you do?” Some days, who knows?

Once I stayed home to become a homemaker, I had high expectations of myself. I was no June Cleaver, but I felt a step above Carol Brady. (There was no Alice living in our house.) I wasn’t much of a cook, didn’t sew and wasn’t very good at volunteering for committees. What’s that old adage – “Fake it till you make it?” That’s a good way to explain how I muddled through motherhood.

Although I was a stay-at-home mom, I didn’t want that to define me. I wasn’t ready to go back to work, but felt like I was more than the mom in the carpool lane. Sometimes I’d ask myself: “What the hell am I?”

Years went by, effort was put forth, children were educated and eventually fully raised to adulthood.

And just when I was ready to figure out who I was without kids, my parents moved in. Suddenly, I was mothering my parents.

Mind. Blown.

My life has been a strange series of small events – some beautiful, some heartbreaking, many boring as hell. I’ve sat through recitals, doctors appointments, teacher conferences, kids’ sporting events and graduations. I’ve held onto my son, my dad and my dog as they passed away. I’ve comforted my children, my husband and my mom as they dealt with transitions. All in all, I sometimes feel like I’ve seen a little bit of everything…and handled it all clumsily.

Motherhood did define me and change me. I put 23 years of energy into it and although I’m still a mother, it’s time for me to figure out who I am. My kids have happily completed college and moved 3,000 miles away to follow their dreams. I couldn't be more excited for them. 

Yet, here I am today, once again, asking myself: “What the hell am I?”

I’m a wife, a stay-at-home daughter, an empty nester, a mother, a sister, an aunt, a friend, a tennis player, a beer drinker, a sports fan, a book and movie lover, a foodie, a cynic, a writer, a mediocre cook, a couch surfer, a poor sleeper, a laundress, an awkward conversationalist….a really odd human being who keeps trying to figure it all out.

I will never be more proud of anything in my life than I am of being a mother. But the time has come to try out a few new things. Stay tuned.

(Originally posted 5/9/15)