I am 33 years old.
I’ve been a mom for 8 months now. I no longer wear makeup. My hair is thin from postpartum loss, unwashed and I am frumpy. I don’t like to look at myself, I am disappointed in what I see looking back. I am so hard on myself. I told myself I wouldn’t be like this anymore…I am too tired to think about this.
I am trying to find a balance between being a full-time mom, working more than part-time hours, and never asking for help. I can do this. I can do this all by myself. My patience is gone. Andrew and I are fighting more, I am feeling trapped inside my mind…would screaming help…stay quiet Tiffany, calm down Tiffany.
I look at Wallis, my shoulders become light…she is so beautiful. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. God I am so grateful for her. God are you listening? Nothing can ever happen to her God, are you listening? I feel her in my veins pulsing against my heart, I love her more than anything I’ve ever loved before. I feel out of breath now, I start to panic, God are you listening? She must grow and grow and fly high above us all, and I will run below her. I will watch her, my eyes wide and she will do better than I did, she will be braver and she will be louder pounding against the sky and she won’t apologize, she won’t look around her and worry about everyone else before stepping forward. Her life will be anchored only by stable love.
I finally crawl into bed, a long day quickly ending, I lay there thinking about Wallis looking up at me…did I read enough to her today, did I sing enough, talk enough, smile enough, did she feel loved enough I think.
The worry of not doing enough settles in like a warm blanket against my skin and I grow sleepy. I have no idea what it would feel like to have a mind filled with positive thoughts, positive love. I want to be this person. Why am I not this person.
Why can’t I forgive myself for being more than one thing, loving more than one idea, traveling farther in my soul and asking more of myself, of this life, of love.
I am so tired. It’s the exhaustion I tell myself. You are so tired.
I quit social media because I don’t like the way it makes me feel. I get tired of looking at insecure false-esteem inducing hashtags and all the curation that we’re told to not take so seriously. Seriously?
I start to ask less of myself online and more of my present self. I don’t want to look back and think, was that real, or was it for someone else. I want to think clearly again. I want to think openly again.
Everyone likes to tell you how much your body will change after becoming a mother, but no one talks about your heart, mind…your soul. How the responsibility you already felt as woman will triple against the small life that was once inside you, now carried softly against you. Here, you are left to your own devices.
I am trying to save myself as much as I am trying to become someone new. I limp against the time I see passing by and tell myself to hurry up, figure it out already, you’re holding yourself up. Are you happy? Calm down. Start again.
I am two roads diverged in a yellow wood and for me, this. is. motherhood.