Um, MOMLIFE?

Motherhood is one subject that I dread discussing. On one hand, I LOVE talking about my mom life and bragging about how spunky, witty and hilarious my kiddos are, but on the other hand, if I am being totally transparent, I’d prefer to sit this one out because I am truly failing miserably. How can I express how I feel as a mom and STILL keep you convinced that I DO love my kids?! I’ll try my best..

Becoming a first time parent is HARD. People talked about losing sleep, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I only thought about a 5 year old child crawling into mom and dad’s bed -or a teenager that stayed out late and maybe that’d grey my hair with worry. I imagined that losing sleep was an exaggeration. Oooh noooo no no no no no.. naive little me.

When I was pregnant with lily, there was always nausea, pain and anxiety. I was constantly trying to diagnose myself and what was wrong with me or with the baby. I just wanted a doctor to verify that something was in fact wrong with me. Every check up, I heard “you and baby are healthy!” Towards the end, I developed high BP, and after my water began to leak, I was admitted to the hospital to be induced into pass-out-painful contractions while puking and pushing for 4 hours in back labor that an epidural has no relief for. I was TRAUMATIZED by the pain and the situation which felt like dying (even with an epidural)! I knew something was wrong with me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Day 2 in the hospital, I woke up at night, the only one awake.. I started thinking about how I could escape and leave my family behind. What could I do to protect my baby from me? No, I didn’t have thoughts of harming the baby, but I had this ridiculous irrational anxiety that somehow I would ruin the baby’s life. What was wrong with me???! I cried so hard until I’d fallen asleep again. I barely held my newborn when I was in the hospital. I was high on Percocet and only truly absorbed a fraction of what was happening around me. I was determined to maintain our lifestyle as closely as possible and only change what was absolutely necessary. I loved party planning, eating out, family events and church functions. Well, eventually what WAS absolutely “necessary” was a drastic change. Again, an illusion of momlife that I never expected would have such a tremendous impact on my lifestyle. Being a zombie for the first 6 weeks was the first major change in my lifestyle. But I figured that after I recover, I’ll bounce back into my usual pace but BETTER and just take the baby with me. Did I ever truly regain a full sense of present reality? I still don’t know..

Looking back, I wish I could tell doctors to help their pregnant mamas explore their emotional health and hormonal impact while they are constantly calling triage and imagining side effects. Thank God the nurses and doctors took me seriously, but the pattern in retrospect suggests that I was physically fine, but something still felt very wrong. Now I believe it was anxiety and depression -postpartum and ante-partum. It was finally legitimized when the OBGYN put me on medication later down the road. But when my daughter was not sleeping at night, it couldn’t have come sooner!

Thankfully, my daughter slept through the night by 3 months (11pm-5am). I remember when people told me to sleep when the baby sleeps, but no one told me that I’d have to wake up multiple times every night. I know, right?! Boy, was I unprepared.

Of course, I was often reminded of this because I had a friend who was just a few months behind me in her pregnancy and delivery. She was a full-on baby wearer and breast-feeder, and bottles were NOT an option. Lily on the other hand wouldn’t even latch like ever, and I actually registered for bottles which I was thrilled to get at my baby shower!! I bought a breast pump and after 3 weeks of pumping and a nipple shield, I desperately held out to make it to week 4 before switching entirely to formula. My friend on the other hand was telling me not to give up, and she scowled at people when they asked me to hold my newborn. Her intentions were good, but why’d I feel like a bad mom? Was it really that bad to let one of my church members hold my daughter? I did bring her to church after all. I received awful looks as I strolled my 5-week-old through Walmart to pick up baby formula. A stranger even told me that it was way too soon to take my baby out! Where were these rules?! The hospital class and tour just told me how to bathe, change and feed a baby, and gave me coping mechanisms for childbirth! Bottom line is.. I was unprepared. But I’d catch on soon enough ..so I thought.

I graduated college when my daughter was 6 weeks old, and I started my masters program that fall. Just before that, I was asked to step into a part-time (but it was actually full-time) position as a worship leader in my church. Acclimating to mom life and preparing for a master’s program, I somehow thought it’d go smoothly. Crazy me..

I’m halfway through my masters program, and by this time I had accumulated twice as many responsibilities at my job, and decided “LET’S TRY FOR A BOY!”

One thing I have said before: having one baby is HARD.. but having TWO babies makes having one baby feel like you were just playing house before.

· Masters program

· 2 babies

· Church job

· Added a 2nd PT job

· Moved house

· Toddler behaviors

· Oh crap- there’s a marriage in there too?! That failed.

During this time, I’m experiencing the pressure to bring in more income, except I’m actually happy with the jobs I have! So I started working at a behavioral health agency full time (until I quit 3 weeks later) while also maintaining that entire list above. Actually, “maintaining” is the wrong word.. because here’s what happened next:

(Disclaimer: if you’ve read this far, you deserve to know this next part.. the shameful pinnacle of my failure as a mom thus far)

My eyes were opened to the harm being done in my family. My husband was completely incapable of making enough fundamental changes in his brain maps for the sake of keeping me and our kids safe from his reactionary, destructive, controlling and abusive behaviors (More to come on this topic). So, next, I moved out. I had every intention of reuniting, but something MAJOR had to change, and I needed space to HEAL.. but after I moved out, the abuse increased, the devastation to my soul became unbearable! My kids were thrown for a loop when they only saw mommy and daddy separately, or arguing. They saw me yelling and begging daddy to stop overreacting or to leave the house. I always made sure they knew when daddy made a mistake or when something one of us had said was wrong and unkind, so I was surprised by my daughter’s response to this implosion when we separated. My daughter became hateful and resentful towards her dad, and she became excessively needy of my attention -at least that’s how it felt. I just couldn’t give it to her.. my separated husband lost both of his jobs and our insurance, and I was OUT of refills on my medication! I called my doctors asking for a bridge prescription because I could probably afford the medication out of pocket -but the doctors appointment was too much without insurance. At this point I quit my church job abruptly, but not before several Sunday-morning no-shows. A few short weeks after my refills ran out, I was off my meds cold turkey, crumbling under the pressure of multiple jobs, emotionally needy children, lack of sleep -because I forgot to mention that my son has NEVERRRR slept through the night to this day- also an unrecognizable marriage, and moving out and in to a new home, as well as the very very last course of my masters program.. I broke.

I broke into a million pieces. I disclosed information to my therapist knowing that she’d have to make a call to DCS, and because I didn’t have the courage to call myself, I wanted her to. DCS investigated and saw that the situation was now safer than it used to be: Unsubstantiated.

I continued to spiral downward, having lost all sense of control, sense of humanity or self.. I knew I wasn’t well, and I had reached the end of my breaking point. I took my parents’ credit card and swiped it as I signed my kids into daycare. I couldn’t look at them. I just had to get them inside, and get myself outside. My 3 year old baby girl was clinging to my legs, and I pulled her arms away as I signaled the teacher to come pick her up. I couldn’t smile or blow kisses; I just had to get my horrible self away from them. They were safe and in good hands there. I drove around for hours, crying on the phone. I knew if I’d gone back to the house, I probably was not coming out. So I poured my self-defeating thoughts out over the phone and repeatedly said how scared I was of my own self and my overwhelming feelings. If I ever had thoughts about dying, I may have said “nah I could never have the courage..” or “I know I wouldn’t follow through..” well none of that was true in this moment. I was terrified, knowing that if I went home, I’d never see my kids again. My mom would then have 2 children buried. Somehow, I made it home, pacing and sobbing and completely under attack with lies that were more true to me than Jesus. I was in utter darkness, but before I carried it out, I had to make sure that I convinced my mom that this truly was for the best; she just HAS to know that. A sane mind would say that the letter I wrote to her seems entirely discombobulated and sporadic. But in my mind, my reasons were not only good enough, they were spot on and there was no other truth. By some miracle, my dad persistently called me, and while I ignored it before, my thumb swiped my phone screen answering his call. He must have known right away that I was a serious danger to myself, because he kept me on the phone and almost literally flew through the front door, stretching his arms in front of him like superman and embracing me as I collapsed into him. He ran to the couch and gathered all the pill bottles lined up, and my mom came home shortly after. After a burger from In-N-Out and a family session with my therapist, my parents drove me to the behavioral health hospital. Was I relieved or ashamed? Had I been rescued or discovered? My week there wasn’t long, but it seemed as though I had been given anti-venom when my poisoned heart was on its last beat.

Once home, as I discussed it all with my mom. I was asked: “Did you think of your children? Did you think about them without their mom?” The answer is no. At least not in the way you would expect someone to think of their children. I was convinced that I was protecting them by taking my own life. I was so entirely blind and stumbling through darkness that it was impossible to see any light at all. It is truly a miracle that my kids still have a mommy.

This might give “MOM LIFE” a new meaning and it definitely is not pretty. I am currently seeking a low-capacity job that can still bring some substantial income –not because I am lazy, but because I am still running on E. I still struggle to wake up with the kids as my low days can be very low and often feels like my eyelids can’t remain open. On those days, I struggle to dissuade myself that my kids are better off without me, but my muse would instead consist of finding a job that requires travel or some other means of escape that is less harmful to myself or my family. I have been learning so much about ways to be intentionally present with my kids, and making it feel like I am “taking a break” with them. I enjoy taking them to feed the ducks, going for a walk, watching them play in the rain and chasing them with the vacuum. But to avoid being exhausted before I even begin, I have had to think about it in small breaks rather than all day full of activities. My ex and I are now living together, rooming separately, co-parenting, healing, and imagining what reconciliation even looks like from this point in our lives. We are extremely blessed by our new church family that has welcomed us with open arms even with all of our baggage. I am also grateful to be receiving support through an agency working with us to help our daughter as well as DCS offering a plethora of services and resources for our family.

You guys, when I tell about all the messy darkness that I’ve walked through especially in this past year, I remember how lonely and isolating it all has been. No one wanted to be nosey or explore my business. No one asked me the hard questions or provided accountability except briefly as it all crumbled down. These experiences are the most vulnerable and terrifying things for me to share, and there is sooo much more dirty laundry that needs air, but guess what.. Surprisingly, as I write, I don’t feel as alone. And while I am mortified of the judgmental blows, I am learning that this insane venture to expose myself for who I truly am and what I truly struggle with has given me comfort that through this medium to some degree, I am known.