As we await the arrival of our second child (any day now), I find myself thinking a lot about who I am today, who I was three years ago, and who I might be three weeks from now.
It is all true: parenting is hard. Parenting is the most rewarding job. Parenting will change your life.
It is also true that parenthood is not for everyone, and I commend those who know assuredly that their lives are complete without this experience. I was twenty-nine when I got married and also when I became pregnant with our first child. I was terrified of parenthood in so many ways.
At twenty-nine, my life looked exactly as I hoped it would: a townhouse in Boston with my husband and dogs, a successful career, a very active social life, lots of travel. I did not want anything to change. I resisted it. While expecting our first child, Matt and I even had regular conversations about how we would continue to live our same lifestyle with said child, and ultimately children, in tow.
But ready or not, parenthood changed it all: our social calendars, our travel plans, our finances, our priorities. More than that: becoming a mother changed everything I thought I knew about my life and about myself.
Becoming a mother changed my career and life plans.
Not out of necessity or because I suddenly felt called to be a stay-at-home mom… quite the opposite (but serious shout-out to all the SAH parents – that is HARD work). For me, motherhood gave me the clarity to see that the impact I wanted to make professionally is much greater than I previously thought, and the courage to explore what this meant for me – even though it did not look like the path that everyone around me was taking.
Motherhood instilled in me the urgency not to wait to take big risks, and the fortitude to build the life around me that I want to lead.
For me, there are not “days when I miss my old life.” Sure, there are certainly moments when I wish I were sipping a margarita on a Mexican beach alone with Matt, or that we had the ability to leave the house without 30-45 minutes of diaper-bag packing and toddler-get-in-your-flippin’-coat wrangling. I wish childcare did not cost as much as our mortgage.
These little things I miss now on occasion – watching movies of my own choosing, deciding to “go out” on the fly, eating dinner after 6 pm – pale in comparison to the things I was missing in my twenties: a purpose, a clear vision of the legacy I want to leave for my children, a strong sense of self.
One of my favorite quotes to paraphrase in my work goes something like, “self-care is not all about bubble baths and manicures. It is about designing a life that you don’t feel the need to escape from.” This same sentiment applies to my experience of motherhood: there are small limitations and trade-offs from my “old life” that I occasionally miss, but the sum of the whole - the sum of my life – is so much greater than the parts. My life with my children is more fulfilling and exciting than I ever could have anticipated, and I would never trade it or wish it away.
Colleen in her twenties thought parenthood looked boring and mundane compared to the “exciting” life she was leading. Colleen in her thirties knows the real joy that a mere giggle can bury in her soul. As a parent, I have been bored for minutes and even hours on end. Before I was a parent, I could be bored for days or weeks, uninspired by anything around me. Unmotivated to get off the couch when Netflix asked, “Are You Still Watching?”
Now I have built-in inspiration. A little girl who is discovering everything new in the world. Who finds delight in butterflies and boats and beams with pride when she goes down the big slide by herself. Who loves her unborn baby brother with a tenacity I can only describe as fierce. She convinced me from the moment she entered this world that everything I thought I knew about life was limited, and she has given me the gift of a lifetime of re-discovering and re-learning all of life’s little secrets.
Becoming a mother has changed my friendships as well.
Some people say, “become a mother and you’ll find out who your real friends are.” Maybe there is some truth to that, but certainly not in the dark, threatening way it comes across. New mothers cannot expect their friends without kids of their own to understand the constant push and pull of motherhood. The instincts that kick in, and the ways you are required to make room for this new human being at the center of your universe change you, as well as your ability to prioritize those outside your new little bubble.
A good friend will sympathize, and listen, and support, and I am so lucky to have many of these friends in my life. Even though they do not always “get it,” they still love me, and by extension, my family.
The experience of parenthood is so powerful, and so different than anything you have ever experienced before… of course it is going to change you, just like any monumental life experience does. But this is a good thing. This is growth and purpose and life itself.
That is why “mom friends” are so important. You need people in your life with this same shared experience. To tell you are not, in fact, crazy. To tell you that you are, despite your persistent fears, doing a good job. To understand you, even when you do not have the words to express your anxiety, your paranoia, your gratitude, your joy.
Your life is now re-centered around a human that is relying on you for the foundation of the pyramid (yes, I am referencing Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs… #nerd). Your friends may have long depended on you for emotional support, decision making, dealing with family and career and identity issues, and (hopefully) lots of lightheartedly fun times. These relationships are so meaningful, and that does not change. But now, your tiny humans need you for sheer survival. They need you for the basics: food, safety, comfort. And simply put, nothing else matters if these needs are not met.
I do not care any less about my friends. In many ways, I care more. I cherish these relationships so, so much, and see them in a new light.
The dynamic, however, does inevitably look different on this side of parenthood. Friendships that used to look like “I will drop everything I am doing to be there for you,” now look like “I will support you in every way I can.” I do not expect my friends who are not parents to understand this. I have missed important life events and forgotten birthdays and gotten lazy about sending thank you notes.
But I am at peace with the friend I am able to be right now, and confident that my most meaningful friendships are strong enough to withstand this shift, and even thrive because of it. (I also take comfort in knowing that if these friends choose to become parents someday, they will definitely “get it” in retrospect.)
Becoming a mother changed how I feel about myself.
As a teen and a young adult, I struggled a lot with my confidence, self-image, and identity (like many of us do). It was not until I became a Mom that I ever felt that I could honestly say: I love myself unconditionally.
I am so tired of the narrative that motherhood makes you unrecognizable to yourself, with the insinuation that this is a bad thing. The transformational power of this life experience has helped me to realize who I was always meant to be. I know myself better, I trust myself more fully, and I love myself better than before I became someone’s Mom.
I love my stretch marks that are a physical representation of being stretched to every limit as a parent: the stretching that occurs in body and heart and soul to bring life into this world and to raise good humans.
I even love my boobs – which have now literally sustained life – much more now than when they were “perfectly perky.” I love my strong arms and back, toned from lifting my toddler five hundred times per day. I love the crows feet and the permanent crinkle on my nose from the silly jokes and belly laughs and tickle fights that keep me smiling every single day.
I love the way my husband looks at me in wonder: when I am carrying or holding our babies, and even when I am not. He sees in me, the mother of his children, a strength and generosity that he finds incredibly beautiful, and he makes sure I know that every day.
Matt and I often find ourselves doubled over with laughter or looking at each other with tears in our eyes - overwhelmed with emotion at the magnitude of this experience. Children are magic. Watching and guiding your own children as they grow through life is the most meaningful experience I could have ever designed. Beyond my wildest dreams.
So now, when friends talk to me about whether or not they are ready for parenthood, I ask them one question:
“Are you ready to sacrifice everything that you think is important to you, to discover what really is?”
And if the answer is “yes,” then, my friend, it does not matter how much savings you have in the bank or how many square feet in your apartment. It does not matter if you got the promotion yet or whether you’re at the peak of your career. You are ready.
-CJK
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