One thing that amazes me about being a mom is how natural it has felt. I thought there would be a struggle to adjust to having a little person depending on me, especially considering that there used to be days that I had trouble getting out of bed or doing basically anything for myself. (Depression is great!!!) But, no, it turns out that my urges to lounge around pale in comparison to the ones I have to nurture this little person who depends on me for literally everything. I’m glad it worked out that way, because I really don’t think it works like that for everyone.
I struggle with judging other parents. I struggle with seeing that some parents with multiple children have obvious favorites. I struggle with hearing about parents who hit their children. I struggle the most with instances of child abuse where CPS is already involved and the children remain with their abusers. I know I am powerless to do any more than I already have in these toxic situations, but sometimes I get upset about it anyway.
Love looks different to different people. To me, it looks like struggling with trying not to help Lorelei as she searches for the right answer. I just want to make things easy for her and solve all of her problems, but I know that’s not how people learn. It looks like acknowledging her emotions when she gets upset and letting her know, “I hear that you’re upset”. It’s making sure I play with her, but not having playtime all day long. It’s important for her to be able to entertain herself – and she does a great job of it. It looks like sending her to her room for time-out. It looks like apologizing when I lose my temper – and I mean, a real apology, one where we sit down and really talk about what happened. I need her to know that I am only human, but I also need her to know that I will try my hardest to be a good one.
It is not all cuddling and hugging and goodnight routines. It’s the uncomfortable stuff, too.
I thought that adjusting to motherhood and all of its hurdles would be uncomfortable, but even this instinct to allow her, and myself, some occasional discomfort feels natural. I do my research via books and the internet (and of course, the parent friends I have whose parenting skills I admire) and talk through things with her doctor to get a good idea of whether or not I’m taking the right steps.
I’m glad adjusting to this stage of my life has been relatively effortless, minus the portion where I was bedridden from my dang thyroid. I’m glad that’s behind us now.