Coin

Me, age 37

Dear Sigita,

Welcome back from maternity leave! It was wonderful seeing you last night – my eyebrows are especially pleased that they no longer resemble furry caterpillars. You are the best esthetician a girl could ask for.

Although we covered a lot of ground during our 15-minute appointment – I loved hearing about your sweet new baby – there was so much that went unsaid on my part. Just as we were finishing up, you mentioned, with a palpable sense of dismay, that you wished someone would have told you how difficult the transition into motherhood was going to be. You confessed you had no idea it would overwhelm and frustrate you so much.

As soon as the admission was out of your mouth, like every other mother I know (myself included), you looked stricken. “But I love being a mother,” you said, the words tripping over each other. “I feel terrible saying that I’m struggling, because I adore my son more than anything!”

I should have spoken up at that very moment. I should have climbed right off that comfy eyebrow-waxing bed and put my hands on your shoulders and shaken them (lightly of course), telling you that you do not need to feel guilty for being overwhelmed and frustrated.  

Why don’t we, as women, better prepare new mothers for this onslaught of conflicting emotion? I mean, how many times did I get my eyebrows waxed while you were pregnant? At least nine or ten, which means I had ample opportunity to tell it to you straight. I could have explained to you that the lows would be really, really low, but the highs would be higher than you could fathom. Why didn’t I ever bring it up?

I think it’s because until one actually becomes a mother, it’s difficult to comprehend the emotional stamina that’s required for the job. I could have set the scene for you, but I suspect it may have done more damage than good:

“Listen, Sigita, there will come a day in the not-so-distant future when you’re trying to get dinner on the table, and your son is screaming bloody hell. You’re exhausted and you have a headache, and crap – you realize you’re out of milk. Your house is a catastrophe, there are mountains of laundry on your living room sofa to fold, and you just want to lie down on the floor and close your eyes for a minute or two. But you can’t. Instead, you find yourself moaning, ‘What did I do to deserve this?’”

But then, there’s the flip side:

“Sigita, your new baby will make you a better human being. He will help you discover reservoirs of courage and strength you never knew you had. Because of him, you will find that you have thicker skin and a mightier voice and a new appreciation for things you used to take for granted – things like holidays and your parents and washing machines and crossing guards. You will laugh more and sing more, even if you’re a super bad singer. Your heart will hurt because you love him so enormously, and as you stare into his perfect little eyes you will wonder, ‘What did I do to deserve this?’”

Isn’t that motherhood, in a nutshell? Two faces of one exquisite, epic, life-altering coin.

Would you have believed me if I had told you?

Sending love,

Laura