There was silence in the van except for my rattily, uneven breath and the sound of the other vehicles driving by, oblivious of the storm brewing inside our van, inside of my brain. The sudden lurch as I pulled over and stopped the van must've shocked my kids into being quiet, if only for a moment.
Then, though I willed it not to come, it started up again.
The wailing because a sibling looked at her "wrong". The interrupting, defensive statements from said sibling, quickly drowned out by the frustrating lack of logic that fueled every word that she spit out as she screamed about the injustices in her world.
I thundered to the back of the van, believing that I could make her stop. That she must stop. I hated that we were miles away from home, pulled over on the side of the road. I hated that I even left the house that day. I wished I were skin-to-skin with my newborn, who somehow was sleeping through all of her our chaos. I wished I could just sleep and heal and cuddle my newborn and not have to be mommy to these other kids who had such explosive, huge emotional hurricanes so often that I couldn't keep up. I hadn't even properly cleaned up emotionally from the last one.
My words, determined to control her, were too harsh. My touch too rough. I made things worse in my attempt to calm her down.
In response came her declarations of hatred and versions of "you're the worst mom ever" that seemed to come out of her so easily, so readily, that my panicked brain thought she must be right.
And then she threated to get out and walk home.
Another adult in that situation may have easily seen through her threat. How would a 6-year-old even accomplish that? She didn't know where we were, and where home was. She was just feeling so out of control, she would say almost anything to grasp for some back. Especially because she saw me as the one in her way.
As soon as she said she'd get out, a wave of fear came over me as I pictured her leaving and walking home along this busy street, not making it safely alone. But fear was not welcome here. Fear was too vulnerable, too weak. I pushed it down, and rage stampeded in instead.
I quickly and roughly made my way back to the driver's seat, locked the doors, and started to drive again, too fast. I stopped too quickly at the lights and stop signs, a teeny terrifying part of me desperate for her to see who was REALLY in charge here. Who she better not cross.
We got home, the kids went into the house, their fighting and insecurity continued, though now over different things and for different reasons. But I stayed out of their battles and stayed in the van, crying, weeping, shaking as the guilt flowed over me like a stifling wave.
'Who ever thought it was a good idea for me to be a mother? For me to be their mother? They are too strong-willed. I just can't do it anymore. I'm not cut out for this.
I can't believe we made it here safely. That was so scary. I never ever should drive angry again. I never should drive them anywhere again. What if that happens again?
My daughter is right to hate me. She's right that I'm the worst. I'm scary. I never thought I'd be like this.
I'm a monster.
Someone will take my kids away. Someone probably should.'
I pressed my fists into my skull to try to make the spinning thoughts stop. My breathing too fast, my heart racing, my infant still sleeping peacefully in her car seat.
What is "mom rage"? "Postpartum rage"? Why is it not just called "rage"?
There is still so much on this topic that I want to research and learn about, but for now I can tell you about two aspects that help answer this question: biological factors, and social ones.
Biological factors
After you have a baby, when you are in your postpartum, you are going through a TON of adjustments and transitions. Your hormone levels are sporadic as they eventually get back to normal. You're navigating the world with less sleep than ever. Your body is bleeding and healing, trying to regain strength. Postpartum is not just a few weeks. It can take years to feel strong and fully recovered from birth.
Your self-care is on the bottom of the TO DO list, leaving you feeling resentful and constantly in "survival mode." Your day is filled with demands, disappointments, and big emotions. One of those emotions we hate to allow room for is fear.
What if I'm incapable to be their mother?
What if something is wrong with my child and it's my fault?
What if something bad will happen to them, and I won't be able to protect them?
This last one is huge- the mama bear in us can quickly rear her fierce head and biologically show up with rage instead of fear. Because rage feels more powerful. And our brains think we need to immediately slay the threat, even if that threat is a ridiculous thing our child said, a seemingly endless crying bout from our newborn, or our own vulnerable feelings.
Social factors
Even as small children, we have been socialized to recognize a "good mom" from a "bad mom". We all know good moms are nurturing, kind, loving, attentive, and meet their children's needs. We all have an idea of what a "good mom" is, and we want to be one. So the reason we call it "mom rage" or "postpartum rage" and not just "rage", is because when we became mothers, we didn't allow humanness to be part of our identities any more. You're the mom now. You have to be the one who is willing to sacrifice everything. The one who knows what to do in every situation. The one who is strong for her kids and doesn't need to ask for help. And don't complain about it.
Of course this is ridiculous. Moms need more help, compassion, and understanding than the typical human, especially as they heal physically, mentally, and emotionally from the intensity of birth and get accustomed to all their new responsibilities and demands. Moms don't need to be held to a ridiculous standard. Moms need the same grace dads have and other humans have- that we all get mad, frustrated, worn-out, annoyed, and simply are human every single day. But those social norms are very strong. They keep us loathing ourselves when we have moments of rage. They keep us hiding our weaknesses and not seeking support, afraid that if we let someone see the "monster" that sometimes comes out, they'll judge us, pity us, take our kids from us.
This is me sometimes. I have rage. I want to change. I never want it to happen again. What can I do?
You're not going to like my answer.
But it starts with acceptance.
You are not the only mom who feels rage sometimes.
You are not the only mom who reacts, followed by remorse.
Who says they'll never yell at their sweet kids again, only to do it the next day.
See yourself where you're at today. You're a good mom, who sometimes yells. Who sometimes rages. Who, even though you went through such a transformative experience as pregnancy and birth and became a mother, did not instantly become a saint. But remained a human.
If you can accept this part of yourself, you will have the confidence and power to find solutions and make progress to change.
If you keep telling yourself that good moms don't ever have negative emotion and if you let anyone know, they'll find out what a bad mom you are...
If you keep hiding in layers of self-loathing and guilt, then you're going to struggle and stay stuck.
I know how it feels. I've been there.
But you are not your rage. Your bad days. Your terrifyingly intense moments.
I'll start to accept myself where I'm at. What's next?
Have hope that you can find your solutions. Have faith that you can change. That you can be changed.
If you follow me at all, you've probably picked up that I believe in Jesus. I believe that He knows exactly how that rage feels. He's been there, He knows you, He is the answer to feeling better and learning how to get out of the pit.
Trust that He has power and can help you. Even you.
If this post resonated with you, join us for Mama Camp (a 3 day workshop on zoom I'm teaching) coming up April 22-24, 2025 @ 10-11 am MST each day. Mom rage is one of the topics we'll be discussing, and I'll give you more strategies. You'll feel understood and validated as you get a chance to share your stories with other moms so much like you.
Email holdthemom@gmail.com for more info. Price: pay what you want. :)
More than anything, I want you to know that you are right on track. You will find relief. You are such a kinder, lovelier human being than you recognize. Your kids are lucky to have you. And I believe in you, being able to have so much more peace and vibrancy in your life. That's why I want you to come to Mama Camp- I want to meet you and be able to get real about these things together.
You got this, mama.
You are not a monster.
You are a queen.
A human queen with normal human emotions.
xoxoxox
Diane
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