The Evolution of a Mother

From my earliest memories, I’ve longed to be a mother. In kindergarten, while most children pictured themselves as firefighters or teachers, I drew photos with bulging bellies surrounded by strollers. I dreamt of the joy of noisy dinners, trips to the zoo, and idyllic photo opportunities. I was not prepared for the emotional conflict of baby bliss, debilitating loneliness, and the decision uncertainty that becomes a part of so many of us. I did not know how that would separate me from the people I wanted to connect with most, other mothers.

There is no chapter in What to Expect that prepares you for the bewildered look on your husband’s face when his arrival at home is greeted by a barrage of questions, his disheveled bride, and a crying baby. We don’t openly discuss the mental toll of the nightly reel of all the ways we misstepped— maybe we spoke too harshly or cringed from one touch too many—that assaults us when we close our eyes at bedtime.

Relentless isolation grips our souls in early motherhood, an unspoken inner dialogue revolving around the internal battle of needing a solitary moment with our private thoughts versus feeling an irrational twinge that somehow categorizes us as inadequate parents. From the moment those lines register on the pregnancy test, many of us begin creating a mask of unwavering positivity to the world. Not realizing it is falling short of showing up honestly for ourselves and one another. The false narrative in our minds makes us feel that the slightest discomfort or uncertainty is a reason to label ourselves as ungrateful or unfit.

I did not know it then, and I am still learning that there is no shame in honesty. But we often highlight the moments of perfection out of fear of judgment when none of us knows what we are doing. We are all winging it! Failing among the wins and winning through the failures.

I have been a parent for nearly 20 years now. Besides my incredible tolerance for vomit and knowing the difference between good screams and bad screams, I have learned that being a mother is an emotional evolution. Beyond knowing the standard proper swaddle, the best times to take toddlers to the market, and when to wrap up what was an amazing pool day seconds before the nuclear meltdown, motherhood has transformed me. Motherhood has provided the best moments but has sometimes isolated me from my peers.

This metamorphosis isn’t just about how I’ve adapted to the changing parental landscape. It’s about navigating a labyrinth of emotions, from the euphoria of a baby’s first giggle to the frustration of sleepless nights and navigating teenage rebellion. But why do we feel like we must travel these roads solo? In my research on proper bedding and best bottle practices, there was no mention of the delicate intricacies of making friends with those with conflicting parenting views or traversing my new primal desire to defend all parenting choices like a master’s thesis. I knew there would be challenging moments, but I did not expect to feel cut off from the women around me.

That young woman stuck in limbo between joy and intellectual lacking was not equipped to foresee this emotional dance of parenthood and maternal relationships. But I’ve come to understand that the unspoken struggles and unvoiced thoughts are universal; I am not unique, and I did not struggle alone; we allow it to feel that way.

By sharing this truth, by acknowledging the complexities, we can bridge the gaps that separate us from our partners and fellow parents. Together, we can embrace the evolution of parenthood and celebrate the growth it sparks within us, both as parents and individuals. We get to decide to honor and respect our differences while making the choices that support our own families. I encourage you to share the missteps along with the medals because none of us are experts; we are all doing the best we can.

By Patrice Craig