IF YOU’D HAVE TOLD ME

If you’d have told me that I’d still be (willingly) nursing a 14 month old, I don’t think I would have believed you. The truth is, I don’t think I would have believed a lot of things. I wouldn’t have believed that I always keep my nails short and never paint them. I wouldn’t have believed that I don’t care to miss out on a concert or a party. I wouldn’t have believed the number of days I’ve happily spent at home, and I definitely wouldn’t have believed that I don’t want those days to end.

There’s a sound bite that’s popular on TikTok right now, and it’s a man’s voice praising the work of mothers. In the clip he says, “you really just get up every day and do the damn thing” and that’s it in a nutshell. Mothers get a bad reputation in mainstream society. Sure, when you directly ask someone about the value they place on mothers, their response is often filled with praise. But the perception that’s too often subliminally shoved down our throats is the idea of a disheveled woman. The inventor of the messy bun. Unkempt and often not showered, with a cup of cold coffee waiting for us somewhere. Overwhelmed and highly emotional. We’re the hot mess in the grocery store, trying to jingle our keys in front of our crying baby while reading our grocery list out loud for the third time only to realize we’ve forgotten eggs just as we get to the front of the line. Our purses are a black hole for all sorts of miscellaneous items. Our car seats are sprinkled with crumbs and our closets are a real-life jenga game.

And while all those observations may be visually accurate, it’s what’s behind them all that often gets misinterpreted. We’re actually killing it. We’ve managed to keep ourselves and other tiny little humans clean, clothed, comforted, fed and most of all loved. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. We’ve likely been functioning on some incomprehensible level of autopilot for months, maybe years; an endless cycle of incredible productivity. A mind at a steady mile-a-minute and a constant twenty-steps-ahead. The mental load we successfully carry and the level of multitasking we carry out daily is unmatched.

Better do that load of laundry so that shirt is clean for that event.

I’ll wait to shower at first nap so I can get out to the grocery store during second nap.

I’ll pack a food pouch just incase the baby doesn’t like what they’re serving.

The car doesn’t have wipes in it, so I’d better remember to put a new pack in before we head out.

I’ll pack them a hat just in case the sun decides to poke out.

Don’t use the rubber hair elastics at night or it will cause breakage.

I’ll pack them a sweater just incase it clouds over.

Make sure to pee before we leave.

Make sure that they pee before we leave.

I’ll pack water incase they get thirsty.

I’d better make sure there is a bathroom just incase the water I packed makes them have to pee again.

Tip of the iceberg, I could go on for hours. Most nights I toss and turn and fall asleep to the conversation constantly running circles in my own head. Never mind the fact that it’s Christmas. It can all be A LOT.

Because here’s the thing… we’re killing it. We are actually getting up every day and doing the damn thing. The moment that other life you’ve been growing gets handed to you, there’s a shift in your heart. A few months after I’d had Lou, my girlfriend asked me if motherhood was easier or harder, than I’d imagined. My answer was that it is so much harder and more consuming than anyone could ever imagine. But the catch, is how easy it is to do, just because of how much you love them. Giving your all for them is instinctual; it happens so naturally you almost don’t even have time to process just how much you’ve accomplished at the end of each day.

Even though what you’re seeing might not look like success, I promise you that it is. I’ve never felt more successful in my entire life. This idea that a mother is some step back or pause on the evolution of the woman as an individual, is so far from the truth because the things you’re basing that off of aren’t real. Appearances, weight, superficialities; they don’t matter. They’re a slight of hand by unrealistic beauty standards created for capitalism. The truth is, we’ve broken free of all that. Sometimes by choice, and sometimes without even realizing it. There’s a hierarchy to that never-ending to-do list in our minds, and priorities have forced us to put what matters most ahead of what we’re being tricked into believing.

So today… I’m going to throw my hair up in a messy bun, locate and then possibly even drink my cold cup of coffee, run through my day’s mental checklist, and just do the damn thing. And then tonight, I’m going to nurse my nearly 14 month old to sleep. If you’d have told me I wouldn’t have believed you, but here we are… I wouldn’t change a thing and my god am I proud myself.