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People tell you that your life changes once you become a mother, and it’s the most magical experience you can have. While some parts of that are true, what they don’t tell you is how much of a struggle it is. My colleagues, neighbors, pediatrician, and friends from my maternity classes warned me about the challenges of motherhood. They laid out all the cards on the table, so I was prepared for the sleepless nights and dirty diapers. Or rather, I felt prepared.
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I thought that I could handle motherhood’s nuances since I had been warned about what is in store for me. But boy, was I wrong. So wrong.
My daughter, Kate, was the cutest little baby I had ever seen. But of course, that came from a place of bias. I did not believe in love at first sight until I held my baby girl in my arms. My heart ached for her. That’s how much I loved her from the minute I saw her.
There was no doubt about how much she meant to me, and I was sure I could do it all on my own. But I couldn’t. Because love is not the only thing that matters when it comes to motherhood. For the first four months after my baby was born, the concept of day and night ceased to exist. I would stay up all night, feeding my baby or trying to put her to sleep. During the day, I would try to squeeze in a power nap when my baby slept, but it wasn’t enough. I barely got about 15 minutes of sleep because she would wake up, cry, or fuss.
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I was so tired. I lacked the energy to carry out daily tasks like brushing my teeth or taking a shower. All I wanted to do was sleep. I did not care about finishing a meal but had to because I was breastfeeding. Not successfully, I must say. It took a while for my baby to latch on and start breastfeeding regularly. Between feeding her, changing her diaper, pumping breast milk, and bathing her, I felt like a zombie. I had no time to reboot and start fresh the next day. There was no next day. It all felt like a big cluster of exhaustion.
What worried me the most was knowing how effortlessly my friends and even my mother sailed through these months. Every mother faces these issues. They all walk the same path but seemed to get through it without too much of a struggle. I felt rather incompetent for struggling. It made me wonder if something was wrong with me. “Am I a bad mom?”, I wondered.
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I could not take it anymore. I tried to refrain from reaching out for help because I did not want to feel weak or useless. If other moms can do it, why can’t I? I hesitated to ask for help because I did not want to feel like a failure. I thought to myself, “the parenting game has just started, and I already need help. What does that say about me?” But after months of sleeplessness, crying, weariness, and self-doubt, I decided to reach out.
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The only person I wanted to call and cry about it was my mom. So I picked up the phone and rang her. I vented to her and told her that I’m grappling with motherhood. And that I need help. I felt a sense of relief as she comforted me. She told me it’s normal to feel this way, and every new mother faces it. She lived miles away and immediately started looking for flights.
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That evening I spoke to my partner about how I was feeling. He hugged me and told me that he would pitch in more. He asked me why I did not voice my need earlier and reassured me that we were in this together. That night, my husband stayed up to watch our baby, and I slept like a log. I realized that it is okay to ask for help, and it doesn’t make anyone weak or a failure. I finally felt like I could do this and did not feel the need to prove anything to anyone. From there on out, things got better, and I’m glad I decided to ask for help.
