Moms of Littles are Not to be Trusted
A hot take from someone in the thick of it.
I remember a meme that circulated the internet a few years ago, an homage of sorts to the moms who don’t have their shit together while in the muck of raising little kids. I believe it was on Scary Mommy or Motherly, or yet another account that has a glossy internet presence, trying to conjure up “approachable” and “easy to digest content" for the parent who does it all.
It was a short apology letter from a mom whose child was less than a year old to her friends with kids whom she didn’t understand before she had her own child. She lamented about how she didn’t get how hard it would be to text or form coherent thoughts. She briefly mentioned the pain of pregnancy loss and the accompanying grief. She retracted any “I’ll never do this when I’m a mom” statements, claiming that she said it before she knew better. She made light of her messy home and hair, apologizing for the spit-up all over her clothes.
The visually stunning quote went viral across Instagram. I remember a mention of it landing on The Today Show as I was hurriedly trying to get a 2.5-year-old Brendan dressed and out the door to daycare and then rushing off to start my third hour of work (yes, you read that right). Many of my friends who were trying to get pregnant sent it to me with a “thought you’d like this” and a short hello. I even wanted to send it to my friends who had entered parenthood before as a “I see you now” moment, but never did. The thought of reaching out came and went as fleeting as a toddler who finds their sea legs.
Why? Because there is just no damn time.
Before kids, and even in the years where my brain felt a bit more free as Brendan became a precocious and more independent kid, I was the person who was the ever-present connector. I made sure to reach out to friends to see how they were and schedule meet-ups. I proactively dug into the bigger questions that were five layers beneath “How are you?” People counted on me to be the steady port in the storm when their worlds washed away and it felt daunting. I had hopes of being that same person as we added a new person to our family and entered a season of shifting professional and personal personas.
Suddenly, without any warning or explanation, I gave up that title once Evie was born. My life and mental health were focused on one thing only: survive.
I’m really not trying to paint a dire picture here. The kicker is that even I didn’t see it coming. Tunnel vision took over and I entered a world where we had a NICU baby and a kindergartner, a husband with a new job that required travel, and a business where all of my clients were laid off during my “maternity leave.”
When I type it all out, it makes complete sense that I was in fight or flight for a year (or maybe still even in it - the jury is still out). I truly wish I could’ve had the conversation about this with all of my friends or family in advance so that we could level set expectations. I imagine that conversation would have been something like the viral apology meme, something like this:
Hi [insert name] - Just a heads up that I’m entering a season where everything in my life and body is being broken down and rebuilt on a cellular level. I remember what I told you before we started on this journey, that it wouldn’t change me and I’d always be there for you. The truth is, I’m seeing that it’s simply not the case. I’ll see you as I emerge in a few years with fewer bags under my eyes and a few more wrinkles. I thank you for your patience and understanding at this time.
Maybe that’s a bit too formal, actually. Maybe it could be something like this:
Dear friends & family members - You still are important. I’m just going through a massive change that I can’t even anticipate. I will not be the same Amy as I emerge from whatever this hell is. I might be even better, who knows? But, I’m just a new mom of two kids, gripped with anxiety and PTSD, and I can’t be counted on to be there for you. So sorry. Still love ya.
Let me boil it down one more time. Here it goes:
Out of Office: Moms of little kids are not to be trusted. My body and hormones are hijacked. I’ll see you on the flip side.
I found comfort the other day in yet another internet meme about how our parasympathetic nervous system is protective in both an uber specific and very general way, especially when it’s unregulated. It provides that general blanket with fight/flight/freeze in trying to safeguard you from perceived external threats, and it is laser-focused on past triggers that can scream how you need that loop of responses that keep you stuck. In those moments, it’s impossible to look outward beyond yourself to help others, find what you’re passionate about, and form deep connections. That kind of work is super taxing on your brain when it’s highly dysregulated.
When your nervous system becomes regulated again for extended period of time (read: not just a day or week, but maybe months), it builds your new pattern of what you know to be “safe.” It’s only in those moments that you can feel some freedom to move and connect, to be vulnerable, to be real.
As
has said, we don’t talk enough about how challenging it is to heal in isolation. And yet, sometimes that’s all our bodies can do because a dysregulated nervous system is one factor that can keep us separated. All we can do is give ourselves and others grace, rightsize expectations of each other, and trust in the quiet moments that it all will be ok.Am I there yet? No - I’m still not to be trusted our counted upon in this season. I am seeing glimmers of hope, like the moment I can push myself a little harder during a spin class or have a bit more clarity in times when my brain might have felt like scrambled mush.
Just give me a few months, maybe years. This caterpillar is still wiggling around to figure herself out. In the meantime, take whatever I say with a grain of salt as I am so sleep deprived.
My 3 Favorite Things
Must Read: It’s pub day for
’s new novel THE SICILIAN INHERITANCE! As a writer who wants to dig into the scandals of my great-grandmother’s family’s past, I can’t wait to see how she structures this story! Purchase it - you won’t regret it.Must Listen: Is it even worth mentioning again? Cowboy Carter. Enough said.
Must Miss: A new category, but come with me on this journey. Perimenopause has wrecked havoc on my skin and the only thing that has helped me is State Of Menopause’s cooling cream. The problem: I’m scraping the bottom of the container and crying crocodile tears because they are no longer producing product.
, we miss State Of, truly. Do you have any recommendations for a great cooling/soothing face cream? Help your girl out!
Have you ever had a moment where your identity had to be rebuilt from the inside out? I’d love to hear that story. In the meantime, I’m cheering you on - even at 3 am during my snuggle sessions with Evie while she’s teething.
