Confessions of a Stay-At-Home Mom: moms
Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts

August 26, 2013

Moms: Give Moms a Chance #MotivationMonday

someecards.com - Being a mom is tough. So be a friend: GIVE MOMS A CHANCE.


I'm still new to this whole school-aged kid thing.

I tentatively dipped my toes into the water with preschool, and today I find myself the mother of a kindergartener

Have mercy, people.

I find many aspects of being the parent of a school-aged child challenging: the effects on a child as they transition to school, emotional distress over being away from your child for longer periods of time (ie, the entire day), hoping that you taught your child enough for them to survive the day independent of you, wondering if they'll make friends, hoping no one will bully them, etc. 

But one of the most difficult things about mothering a school-aged child?

Other moms.

Being the mom of a baby, toddler, preschooler all these years has made my world snug and cozy.  I have the moms I see regularly, friends from story time and play dates.  Over the past 2 years, I've added the small circle of parents from Chica's preschool.  Since the school is only one class, it was easy to get to know and build friendships with the other parents.

This whole "Elementary School" thing, though, is another beast all together.

It's classrooms full of kids, which means classrooms full of parents. And suddenly I am thrust back into Middle School Steph: hesitant around new people, wondering if they like me, not sure where I fit in.

I know. So cool.

Little known fact about Steph: I am a bit shy. I tend to be a reserved in new situations and ease into friendships slowly. Earlier in my life, I was painfully self-conscious and socially awkward. Like. A lot. And it took a long time to find confidence in who I am, to embrace and be proud of myself. Without that confidence, it was hard to walk into a room of strangers and present myself.

I've come a long way from the awkward girl of my youth, and can now embrace situations where I get to meet new people. But there is something inside of me that always holds me back a bit. A voice that whispers untruths: lies about my looks, my abilities, my value. And just as I did when I was young, I perceive that people see me as that person. I perceive them perceiving me. I fear there are Mean Girls in the midst of the crowd. 

And it's a downward spiral from there.

Case In Point: I went to a quick meet-up this Summer, sponsored by a group of local moms whose kids go to my daughter's Kindergarten Center. It was promoted on the school's facebook page. And although it was a bit out of my comfort zone, to just show up at a playground knowing no one but my children, I thought it'd be a great way to get to know parents (and kids) before the school year started. I figured, "Hey. We're adults now. We are able to put judgements aside, welcome new relationships and enjoy the opportunity to meet new people."

Hm.

Somehow, during this meeting, all of my Meeting New Mom nightmares came true. Many of the people already knew each other from group meetings over the years. Despite the fact that it was an "open invitation" to new kindergarten parents, all the moms seemed to find their cliques and hang out with the people they knew. There were a few stragglers, like myself, undefined by a group. No one stepped out to try to introduced themselves, no one welcomed the new parents. 

So I took all the moxie I could muster, and went up to several groups in an attempt to introduce myself. The smiles were quick and polite, but any conversation quickly fizzled. I even did my best to resurrect new discussions, but it was clear that the moms I kept introducing myself to wanted to catch up with their own friends.

I felt like I was having that dream where I was in class and look down to find that I am totally naked. 

Worst. 
Feeling. 
Ever.

I left that meeting discouraged about the moms I would be interacting with this school year. Everything in me wanted to write them off: "Forget them. I don't need new friends. I have great friends. And I'm flipping awesome. They are missing out. I'm not trying again."

But friends?

We need to try.

I am motivated to find the moms I can relate to and build relationships with. I may not click with every mom. That's okay. We aren't meant to. But after that meet-up, I spent time putting myself in the shoes of other moms. I quickly realized there may be moms who are a bit like me: shy or anxious about meeting new people. Maybe they are unsure and take time to get used to new friendships. 

So I need to give them a chance.



someecards.com - Our clothes are awesome. Also? Come be our friend.

And to the moms who have been there done that? The moms who have established friendships or are well-aquatined with the other local moms?

Give new moms a chance. 


It's easy (and fun) to spend time catching up with the people you know at functions. But sometimes we need to be the Initiators. We need to be the Welcoming Face. We need to reach out and shake hands and say howdy. We need to start (and hold) conversations, even if its out of our comfort zones or you really need to talk to Suzy about last weeks RHONJ.  

Because reaching out and opening up and making friendships may not come as easy to some as it comes to you. For some, it is a self-confidence issue. For others, it is a hurt from past friendships or just plain personality type. You never know what another person is facing, you don't know the demons she has fought. Some people just need a friend.

And because moms, ALL moms, whoever they are and wherever they may be located, are part of your community. 

Give all moms a chance.

You may just find yourself with a new friend or two. 




~~~~~



September 18, 2012

Love Grows

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"Everyone says having a baby is so awesome. And it's just...not..."

She holds her days-old baby boy, who sleeps quietly in her arms. His body is so tiny, the onesie he wears is swimming over his limbs.  I look over this new mom: a nursing tank top, loose pants for her labored-yet-not-back-to-normal body, tired face, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her eyes are wet, and I can hear the tightness in her voice as she tries to be strong and hold back the tears threatening to spill over. 

Oh, how I remember those tears.

In this moment there are so many things I want to say to her. I want to tell her there are a thousand and one things that books, doctors and other parents should tell you before you become a Mom, but they don't. I want to tell her that everyone else makes parenting look easy, but every one struggles behind closed doors.  All moms struggle, cry and wonder if they are cut out for this role; but no one ever talks about it. I want to tell her that I know the fear, the guilt and the lonliness during this transition from an independent person to suddenly caring for a completely dependent little being. I want to tell her the tears are normal, the hormones reside, it does get better. 

SO. Much. Better.

Before I can share some encouragement, she looks away, wiping a stray tear, and turns her focus ahead to stare at the wall in front of us.  I hear her words with my heart before I hear them with my ears:


"I do love him. I just...don't feel love for him."

She makes her confession, part apology, part seeking affirmation that she is not a horrendous, awful person. 

Oh friend. Oh dear, aching friend. I have been there.

I remember being pregnant with Chica almost 5 years ago. The pregnancy was a bit of {read: totally} a surprise. I hadn't the time to consider, to wish, to think, to plan. One day it was just there, 2 pink lines confirming that our lives would change forever. I know so many women who struggle, toil and endure heartache to know the joy of pregnancy, of motherhood. I love those mothers (or one-day mothers), and my heart goes out to them. I cannot pretend to know your pain, but I know it is so, so real. 

When I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant, I struggled with my own fears: looking ahead completely uncertain of my ability to care for and raise a child, fear of how my life would change, some days I even mourned the pending loss of the life of just Hubby and I. It sounds so selfish, I'm sure. I was just so overwhelmed by the unknown. I had no idea how to feel.

During my pregnancy, every mother in my life shared their thoughts, feelings and stories. Many shared the unnecessary horror stories of pregnancies and births gone awry ("...and THEN the doctor came in and stuck me with a needle the size of a COW"). Others shared their very specific and exclusive advice on how you need to care for your child ("Never wake a sleeping baby!"). But the words that haunted me after Chica came involved something less blunt. 

Mothers love sharing the story of the moments they first meet their new little ones. So many women stared off in a love-induced haze as they told me their tale of laboring for hours, enduring the surgery of C-section, and finally being handed the person that had been grown inside their bodies for upwards of 10 months.

"Pure joy."

"I fell in love instantly."

"It's as though I always knew him, that he'd always been apart of my life."

"I didn't know I had more love in my heart. But it's as though my heart grew bigger the day I first held her."

So imagine my surprise, after 2 days of off-and-on labor and 2 hours of pushing, finally being handed my first baby. And I felt....nothing. Well, that's not true. I felt many things. I felt tired, I felt overwhelmed, I felt relieved, and I did feel a certain peace that the hard part was over. But as the doctor handed over my beautiful little girl, I waited for those feelings to flood me. The joy, the love, the elation. 

And they never came.


This is Chica and I the day after she was born.
This is the picture of a Mom who was scared out of her mind,
with no clue what she was doing.

A few days later, we made the scariest drive ever in our lives: we brought our baby home. And then the roller coaster began: several weeks of complete inadequacy. We had no idea what we were doing, and questioned several times a day why anyone in their right minds would entrust us with a child and send us into the world to fend for ourselves. She cried. We cried. She didn't sleep. We didn't sleep. Those first few weeks were the most emotional and exhausting times I've ever experienced in my life. I did not struggle with post-partum depression, but I was most definitely blue. And I think women need to realize that those struggles, those emotions? ARE REAL, and many of us struggle with them.

Those first few weeks, Chica was my responsibility. It was how I thought of her. She was my charge, and it was up to me (and Hubby) to make sure she was fed, clothed, clean, changed and safe. It was overwhelming. In the beginning, there was no room for love. And I will be very honest: I did not enjoy those first few weeks. I did not enjoy her. But I knew my responsibility, and commitment. And I carried on. 

Because that's what moms do. 

They struggle, they survive, they thrive.

Time passed. Hubby and I became more acquainted with what it meant to be parents, what it meant to always be in the presence of this little person. We knew how to change diapers, learned what her cries meant, and knew what needs to meet.

And you know what happened?

Love grew.

I don't know when it happened. Because that's the funny thing about love: it takes time. Love grows, slowly but surely, in the hidden places, almost undetected. Then one day you wake up, and you look upon this baby, your baby, and there it is: 

Love

You say to no one, "I love her." And you mean it. 

You truly mean it.

Love grows. 

It just takes time.

So all you new Mommas out there? Relax. Cut yourself some slack. You are enduring one of the biggest, most challenging transitions life will ever throw you. It is hard. For everyone. It's not just you. Everyone struggles. We all cried. A lot. For a long time. Sometimes I still cry. But things change. It gets better. You get better. And while it may take longer than you might think, Love will come.

Love. Will. Come.



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