A letter to the mom who feels the need to clean the house before her friend-who-offered-to-clean/ housecleaner/ postpartum doula comes over:
Dear mama,
I get it.
It is painful to need help in a world where all you want to be is a "good" mom. A competent mom. A mom who doesn't need anything from anyone. Things are hard and sometimes you don't know how you'll get through the day (or even the minute) without help. But it's frustrating to need it or want it when you think that means you're failing.
This happened to me THIS WEEK. I think when we think of the hard part about the transition to "normal" life after a baby is born, we think there's a certain amount of time that is "appropriate". We think our postpartum has an expiration date of about 4 months. And after that, we should be fine. So for me, when things feel extra challenging, when I find myself crying at the drop of a hat and raging at my kids and my newborn is almost 1, I have an extra dose of "what's wrong with me?!"
I had an especially challenging several hours on Monday. My kids came home from school and all of the sudden the big emotions from them and soon from me were rising and swirling and overpowering until I locked myself in my room, crying and pacing and saying "who do I ask? who do I ask?"
I knew there were people who would be kind and lovely and willing to help. But who could I ask who I could stomach the thought of them seeing me in this state? How could I sacrifice my pride and let anyone else into the chaos?
Finally I called her.
My sister came and I took the time I needed to be able to breathe and reset. She was kind and non-judgmental, my kids loved her company, all became well again.
But it left me pondering. How can I preach to all about you of the importance of being willing to ask for help when you need it if I still have such a hard time doing it myself?
I walked over to the mirror, looked myself straight in my blotchy red face and said, "That was brave. That was good to call her. Thank you."
We have major socializing to unravel if we want to be more comfortable asking for help. And if this post can just start you thinking more often in those terms, it'll be worth it.
What I wish you knew about you
You are remarkable. You wake up and do more for yourself, your baby, and everyone else than you even ever recognize. You have gifts that only you can give as you bless the world with them. Your baby is so lucky to have you. All of us are.
What I wish you knew about other moms you can see
Even though they look so good/ seem so patient with their kids/ seem to be doing so much more than you, their thoughts are SO SIMILAR to yours. Your struggles are so relatable to them. But just as you are hesitant to air your dirty laundry, they keep their stuff in too. All of us are struggling. All of us need each other. All of us are good moms who don't quite see it and worry we'll never be enough.
What I wish you knew about other moms you CAN'T see
Your ancestors who you admire and can't relate to because they always knew what to do in their motherhood? Struggled. The woman across the sea from you? Struggling in her own way, in her own context. But one thing many of those moms in other cultures DO have, is less of an individualistic society which equates competence and success with doing everything by yourself. They have villages. They have social expectations that you let people in and they take care of things while you REST. We are the weird ones, who think it makes sense to bounce back and not need help and always be happy after something as transformative and deep as birth and postpartum!
You are right on track, mama. It feels hard because it IS hard.
I wish you could see the truth. You don't need to be unkind to yourself anymore. Let your postpartum doula come in as the house is, as you are. Let yourself rest and heal and be bad at it (you're also great at it- often in ways you don't recognize. But let yourself be bad at it- you're learning and human and LOVABLE just as you are!). Your capacity is growing, you are beautiful, you are exactly as you should be right now.
Love,
Diane