The Other Side of Motherhood


Some days are going to be brutal. They just are.

And maybe you’re going to get into bed before 6 pm and stay there. For an hour. Longer. All night.

You might eat peanut butter for dinner and cry on someone’s shoulder. Or maybe you won’t have anyone to cry on so you’ll cry into your wine glass instead.

After the kids are asleep you might journal or listen to music or surf the internet or watch a movie or read a book or binge eat.

You probably want to cry. You probably should cry. Chocolate helps. Herbal tea heals. Water therapy? Aromatherapy? Will someone massage your shoulders and scalp? What can you do for you?

You might start the next day by doing something that feels good. Like walking beneath the sunrise, letting the sunshine catch your eyeballs. Provided the sunshine reaches you here on earth and your stroller doesn’t have a flat tire.

Or maybe you can’t get out of bed. Maybe it’s getting worse not better.

You wonder. How did this become my life and where do I turn around? Am I cut out for this? What is hurting me and why? Can someone throw me a line?

I’m here to say that you’re not alone.

We. Are not alone.

Some of us experience depression in flashes. Minutes, if we’re lucky. For others, it comes in longer stretches, punctuated by the fullness of joy. Fleeting yet penetrating. For some of us it’s darker, deeper.

We endure because we have love.

We dip low and we fly high. We see doctors. We talk to therapists, we take prescriptions, we self-medicate. We figure it out. We don’t give up. Because people are counting on us. Little people. Beautiful people. Innocent people.

If only we could all stay that way. Innocent.

We can’t.

We can’t protect them from it. We can’t even protect them from ourselves. We are flawed. Perfectly imperfect.

Maybe our lives look perfect from the outside. We wonder if this means we are manipulative or if it means we are lucky. If we are lucky, then why is it still hard? Does it have to be this way?

I love this life in all of its paradoxical glory. I ask these questions because I love it. I get sad because I love it. And I climb because I love it. I look for the places to grab onto and I climb.

Last night this image on the Tiny Devotions Instagram feed brought me comfort. So often we don’t appreciate ourselves. So often society takes us for granted. So often (it feels like) no one understands how we are struggling as mothers. A little acknowledgement goes a long way. 



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s