Mourning the loss of pre-parenthood life.
I posted this on Instagram, and it received some positive feedback so I figured I’d post here as well.
I had a VERY hard time adjusting to parenthood.
Life changed (literally!) overnight from single human adult (with a spouse who could care for himself) to an adult (with a spouse who could care for himself) plus another human needed me 24/7 to do absolutely everything. Plus, that new human had zero communication skills (sans crying) so I was constantly guessing at every single turn.
It felt like I couldn’t do *anything* for myself because it always was dependent on that new human’s mood, nap schedule (or lack there of), growth spurt, teething status, illness, demeanor, hunger, developmental stage, etc.
I’m sure some folx would counter this admission with, “What did you expect? You had a baby. This is what it is to have a baby.” Yes, that’s true. No one is disputing that and if anyone truly does not want that for many years to come, they should not have children.
However, to expect a human being to adjust in moments, days or even months to something that was *not* their norm for the majority of their life (especially when that new norm is really f*cking hard) is ridiculous. At the time I couldn’t wrap my brain around why it was so hard. In hindsight, it makes complete sense that I would have some level of anxiety, but PMADs made it all the more intolerable.
There IS a mourning process for the loss of that freedom that gets stunted because with a baby (and forget about multiples!) there is just no time for it. You are thrown into parenthood, and sinking is just not an option.
Needing to mourn the loss of something (like life before parenthood) doesn’t mean you can’t simultaneously feel grateful and excited about something new. Just as with a breakup you can know the best decision was ending the relationship while still looking back fondly, and sometimes even missing the good parts.
My PPD and PPA constantly told me that I wasn’t cut out for the job, that every single decision I made was the wrong one, that I’d spend the rest of my days wiping butts and then once those days were done, I’d be left with no job as a SAHM* and never be my own person again.
The treatment I got for PMADs was so helpful in validating my need to process my grief, and reassured me that it did NOT make me a bad mom. I also realized that my PMADs was lying to me about all of it. I’m totally cut out to be a mom and on most days, a pretty damn good one. I have heaps of interests and weirdness that make me me. I always have.
These mornings my 1.5 year old is an early riser with zero voice modulation who runs into our bedroom yelling, “MAMA!! MAMA!!!” and I’m ripped from my sleep, groggily smiling. If you’re still processing that loss, I hear you and I see you.
You’re not a bad parent; you’re human.
With warmth and gusto,
H
*To be clear: the job of a SAHP is really freaking hard. I’ve always known I wasn’t cut out for it. And after doing it for a year I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that it’s just not the job for me.