What Motherhood Replaced.

/in , ,

I told myself I’d never be that mom. I’ve watched women I love and respect leave themselves behind as they navigate motherhood. Dreams get forgotten, passions get forgotten, showers get forgotten. Emotions get pushed to the side in an effort to meet the needs of these little people you love so intensely.

I told myself I wouldn’t do it. I’d continue to pursue my dreams, my passions, shower regularly, keep up with the latest trends. I’d model for my baby girl a mama who considers herself a priority in the healthiest way.

I do believe it. That I’m a priority. Im still trendy (when I leave my house), I’m still chasing after my dreams and passions (then again I only have one kid). But it’s much harder than I expected.

Last night I cried to Eric about the person I used to be. “I’ve been trying to hang onto her, but she’s slipping away”. What I didn’t take into account when I had big plans not to “lose myself” to motherhood, is that there would be no way for me to ever be the same again. Everything has changed. I am a mom. A little person relies on me for everything. My life can’t look like it used to, no matter how much I am honoring myself and my dreams and passions.

I think the sooner I accept that and move into this new version of me, the better. Mourn what used to be, accept that at times I will miss it, and step into this new opportunity to be all that I have been created to be while also being a mom.

Being a mom has engaged a whole new part of my heart and soul that I would never have been able to access otherwise. And when I look at it as an entrance into a new realm of learning and knowing myself, it becomes this opportunity to become something more than I was before.

So maybe motherhood replaced some things. Priorities shifted and life has changed in a way I didn’t expect, in a way you didn’t expect. Maybe you’re in a phase where you are mourning who you used to be, wondering who you are now. You’re still her, just a little bit different. It’s okay to let her go a bit and step into what is to come. Motherhood doesn’t put an end to you, it just shifts it a little bit. You got this mama!

When you’re a mom with anxiety.

/in , ,

I have always been a little scared of being a mom, and at times very terrified. Anyone who has ever had a panic attack can identify with the need to have an escape at all times. What would happen if I had three kids in a shopping cart in a store and had to get out of there ASAP? I’d be stuck. What about when my kids get older and start to realize that mommy is afraid of certain things, breathes really fast in certain places? What about the days when my OCD has such a hold on me that I can’t get myself to stop organizing for even a second, plowing through my kids imaginative play in order to create my own illusion for control? And then the biggest fear, the one I don’t dare share; what if life becomes too much one day and I leave my babies behind?

I come about it honestly. My whole family struggles with anxiety. Having been a child of two parents who struggle with deep fears, I know first hand how it can affect our teeny people. No judgement-my parents did the very best they could and we all turned out pretty good, but I felt their anxiety and it greatly affected me. Knowing this, I am so very sensitive to what my anxiety could do to my baby girl. I wonder if she notices, even now, the differences in my days. But even if she can’t sense my deep feelings now, I know that someday soon she will. How do you show those hard parts of yourself to your innocent babies? How to you lay your cards all out on the table, lead by example in navigating hardships, all while not burdening them with your baggage?

How am I ever going to do this?

Before I had Lilah, my life was self centered. It had to be, it was how I survived. Every move was planned perfectly to avoid as much fear and uncomfortability as possible. I had it down to a science. I had a dozen excuses in my back pocket, knew my escapes to avoid certain situations. But I can’t quite do that anymore.

There’s more going on here now. I have to learn to do it a little bit differently now then before. If I want my babies to experience life to the fullest then I’m going to have to do some of those hard things. If I want to avoid losing my shit at home with a baby all winter then I’m going to have to go to those play dates, run those errands-stretch myself to reach those places.

But guys it’s really hard. It’s hard to recharge enough to get myself to the places I need to be and to do the things I need to do for my baby. It takes a lot of intentional time to myself, a lot of understanding exactly what I need in order to be at my best. And still some days, most days, lulu doesn’t get my best. She just gets what I’ve got to give in the moment, even if it’s teary snuggles in front of the TV.

I’m learning to have grace for myself when I don’t feel like I’m being the parent I should be. When I’m scared that I’m hurting my child by being a mess. When I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle raising her and any other babies we might parent. One step at a time right? Deep breaths, baby’s steps. That’s often all I have to give. Can I trust that is enough? Can I trust that my love for her is making the difference? I have to. Because my battle with anxiety is lifelong and it is difficult. The last thing I need is the pressure to leave that part of me out of my parenting game.

You can do this mamas. You can. We can. We will!

We’re all trying too hard.

/in , ,

There’s still makeup on my face from this morning, but I’ve exchanged my “trendy” ripped jeans and cute top for Erics old t-shirt and my maternity athletic shorts. “Now that I’m home I can relax” I tell myself. Ugh what a tall order. Who says relaxing is a thing just for home?

That’s part of my problem. Home is where I relax, but the rest of the world is my stage-where I perform. I don’t like that it’s like that. I don’t like that I sat at a table this morning with a bunch of wonderful women and pretended like I don’t have social anxiety and I wasn’t in the midst of the worst period of my life. Granted they were strangers, and there is something to be said about good boundaries and stuff. But it still makes me wonder what it would like if we weren’t all trying so damn hard all the time?

I toyed with the idea of wearing this outfit today. Erics baggy t-shirt, these shorts with the elastic so forgiving, but then I didn’t. Better look somewhat put together at least for our first meeting right? There will be time to look like crap later on. And heaven forbid Lilah not be wearing an outfit that coordinates pants, shirt, and hair bow (OCD coming into play. She matches even when she’s going to bed-send help-I have issues).

But I don’t want to be exhausted every time I leave my house. I don’t want to put on a mask for the world that I can only take off in the privacy of my own home.

And maybe some of you who know me are thinking that I’m an open book. I try to be. I try to be vulnerable and open and honest. And in some ways I am. I have no problem talking about my struggles, my poor choices. But you know what’s really hard for me? FEELING the pain in front of someone else. It’s even hard for me to feel the pain in front of myself.

So today I want you to know that I’m struggling with finding the right medication dose for my anxiety. I’m flailing around between scary postpartum thoughts and so much energy I can’t sleep. Eric and I are navigating a rocky road of his work schedule and my emotional needs. I continue to wrestle with stomach issues and face defeat in my postpartum weight loss battle. But most days you would never know it. I pride myself on holding it together. I never want to be “too much for anyone”.

And I know that today, in a room of so many women, we were all trying too hard. Trying too hard to get it together for two hours so we didn’t look like a blubbering mess to everyone else. Trying too hard to get it together for ourselves so we could feel normal for one second and not like just a mom with no life.

We’re living in a world of trying too hard. And that doesn’t mean we can’t dress up if we want or leave our problems behind for a little while. I will never stop loving fashion and picking out outfits and overspending on poshmark “cuz it’s so cheap”. And sometimes I NEED to pretend for a second that I’m not drowning in anxiety and obsessive compulsive thoughts.

BUT…

We don’t HAVE to. We don’t HAVE to try hard. We aren’t a slave to it. We can try hard or not try hard and pick and choose when and where and why.

My challenge to you and myself today. Go somewhere today and don’t try at all. Just be-whatever that means. And since my introvert self just had a big morning, the farthest I’m getting out is for a walk around the neighborhood, but you better believe I’m still not gonna try. I think it’s a laundry not done, bed not made (not that I EVER make it), cookies for lunch, chipoltle for dinner kind of day.

Who is with me?

A letter for the depressed days.

/in , , ,

DISCLAIMER: I am okay. I am very aware of myself and my feelings and have support systems upon support systems to help me navigate hard days. I know when to ask for help from my people. Thank you for your concern, but this is just me being vulnerable.

Anxiety is more what I am used to. Constantly repeating things in my head, wondering if I am offending anyone, doing enough, getting it all done. And so when depression seeps in, it terrifies me deep to my core. I am not quite sure how to navigate it, what to do with those incessant and gloomy thoughts, the fatigue, the all around effort it takes to enjoy what is around me. My mind tries to beat myself into submission, “get over it”, “your life is great-what are you sad about”, “you will never make it through this, you’re weak”. And with motherhood zapping me of energy and stealing my precious, much needed sleep, the voices are stronger, deeper, rooted in all the things I ever hated about myself.

This morning, as the rain beats down on our roof, I have felt this pull to bring these things into the light. To challenge all of the thoughts that grip me in these moments and to take control of them, even if just for a moment. Hear me when I say, I do not believe that depression is a mind game that you can just get over. I believe in medication to help battle chemical imbalances out of our control. Also, if you have access to therapy, do it. If you do not-message me. I am not a therapist, but I can be a friend.

Dear depressed me,

You are still you right now, just with a little depression attached. Feelings are just feelings- they don’t define you, remember? You get to decide how today goes. Bring the darkness into the light. Text your friends who get it, write about it, make an Insta video. Just don’t hide it, ok? You know that it makes it worse. And also, you’re not the only one who feels this way, so don’t believe that lie either. You are not weaker, a worse person, a broken person just because you are feeling this way. You are just you, battling your way through today because this is just what it is.

Remember all of the amazing things that you can do because you are so sensitive to the world? You’re empathetic, and creative, and passionate. You connect deeply with God because you have to cling to him/her to survive. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s a gift. You’re really awesome and you’ve got some really good stuff going on. This stuff, the hard stuff, is just a bump in the road, but it’s not the whole road.

You can do this, because you always do. Today is no different than those other days. One step at a time, deep breaths. There is another side and you will get to it.

Love love love,

Lizz

Creating is important.

/in ,

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the importance of creating and giving ourselves room to create.

I just happen to be an incredibly creative person (although I would argue we all are creators…maybe that’s for another post). From the time I wake up to the time I fall asleep I am constantly dreaming up projects and making creative touches to everything around me. I have come to really love that about myself and yet, it hasn’t always been that way.

Creative types often get a bad rap. We’re too sensitive and moody, or spend too much effort “wasting” our time on a craft that will “make us no money”. Many of my actor friends have been told too many times that they are an “aspiring actor” just because they are not meeting societies standards of success.

Additionally I have often been confused by my creativity as it spans many crafts and is not something I can whittle down to just one thing. I am a writer, an actor, a decorator, a fashionista, a cook, a painter, a furniture refinisher, a carpenter, and the list goes on and on. I always felt some sort of pressure to pick just one. What was going to be my “calling”, my “career”, the thing that people would remember me by.

But over the past few years I have come to see my creativity as limitless. I can do anything that I want! And if I do something for a while and take a break and try something else-hooray for me!

Before Lilah was born I was immersed in theatre, and then after she was born I was writing occasionally and redecorating (aka moving furniture and decor around my house constantly). Now writing seems to be taking center stage, as well as a dance class I will be taking this fall. Who knows what is next! The options are limitless. I can be anything I want to be at anytime and give it as much or as little attention as I wish.

Creating is freeing. It is worship to our creator who gave us the ability to do these things. It is recognizing who we are and saying to ourselves, “I will live in alignment with my soul”.

On this rainy day I am burrowed under the covers as I listen to my baby girl not nap. I am dreaming up new projects and reflecting on old ones. I am giving myself permission to be exactly the kind of creator I am in this moment. Give yourself permission to do the same.

Motherhood Mentality.

/in , ,

It’s always been easy for me to share about my anxieties, my OCD tendencies, the negative thoughts that plague me on the hard days. But it’s oh so hard to admit that those things are a struggle for me as a mom.

I don’t want it to be true. I want the two to be separate somehow; the messy human version of me, and then the angelic supermom version of me. As much as I cognitively know the importance of my child watching me navigate my own emotions and humanity, I still so badly want to be the perfect mom for her. But on top of everything else, guilt over mental battles I cannot control, isn’t helping.

If Lilah is anything like her mama she will feel things deeply, observe closely, and internalize everything around her. Those things are amazing gifts but also very hard things to navigate in oneself. I want her to watch her mama do it with humility and honesty. And even if she’s nothing like me and calm and steady like her daddy, I want her to be able to empathize with the people in her life who are different from her.

So if I know the importance of living vulnerably for my child, then why is it so hard to let go of this “need to be supermom” mentality? The truth is it is all around us and while many of us are exhausted by the concept, just as many of us don’t even realize we’re striving.

It all comes down to this theme I’ve been wrestling with my whole life: resting in who we are and where we are. Accepting that we are not supermoms, superdads, superhumans, and instead embrace exactly who we are-even the knitty gritty stuff that sucks to know about.

The Days Are Long

/in , , , ,

Veteran mamas always tell me, “the days are long, but the years are short”. I hate that they are right.

Here I am, with 7 months of motherhood behind me already. My little girl has a tooth. How did we go from tiny little peanut on an ultrasound screen to this? It’s surreal. And yet it’s reality. Time just keeps on ticking.

But the days are long. The early mornings, the singing my thoughts all day to keep her entertained, the random errands to keep us busy (that may or may not end in me crying because-social anxiety). Those make up some long days.

The binge watching Netflix days (you know the ones). Where you have a little one or two playing at your feet, with My 600lb Life playing in the background all morning because you can’t quite keep your sanity.

But more often than not, in this new season of motherhood, the lengthy days have very little to do with her and much more to do with me. The thoughts that plague my brain over and over. “Am I doing any of this right?”, “am I a lazy housewife?”, “am I engaging her enough? Kissing her and squeezing her enough?”. The googling what’s normal, what stage she’s in, etc.

Ok maybe, some of you are just feeling like this day got a lot longer just reading the thoughts of this type A, anxiety prone mama, but my bet is you’ve been there too. Because there’s no manual. It’s all new. I am learning who she is and what she needs every day. But I am also learning who I am now, what I need, how to do both. Doing both, that’s what makes the days long. Her little smile and giggle, and teeny tiny hands grabbing my feet, that’s just a puddle of joy amidst my own intense thoughts.

Maybe a few years from now I’ll check back in with a toddler and a baby and tell you to forget everything I said before, that the kids make the days long-the tantrums, and throwing food, the balancing both, and keeping everyone alive. But for now, It’s just me and her. And I’m doing my very best to learn how to let go, but also hang on.

The most beautiful, frightening, journey I’ve ever been on. Blindly walking in who knows what direction, holding this teeny tiny person as close as I possibly can, and hoping for the best.

Thank you to my support system. You people are angels. Love you.

Done With the Mom Thing.

/in , , ,

My sweet girls’ smile, her excitedly kicking feet, her laugh, those big observant eyes. When I’m not near her I want to be, I crave holding her little body close. That same little person requires so much of my energy, time, and patience. The nap struggle, feeding from me like I’m a dairy farm, does she need more tummy time or less, google this symptom and that. The mom thing can be exhaustingly beautiful. And so when I need to I’m learning to say “I am done with the mom thing. ”

Heaven forbid that as mothers we choose to relinquish titles and responsibilities to spend time doing our own thing. GASP! Don’t worry, Lilah is well cared for when I take time off from mamahood. I never do so at her expense. But oh how desperately I want my little girl to know how to love and care for herself. And I can show her how by knowing when I need to be done with the mom thing.

Last night I went to a friend’s musical. And as I watched, I felt this passion rise inside me that has been resting for over a year. How I love to perform. And how I love to do so many things outside of my role as a mom. I might even argue that pursuing those passions in tangible ways is just as important as being there constantly for my little one. Because as much as she needs my attention and affection and my boobs, she also needs my example. The example of a woman who follows her heart, whose driven, and dynamic, and multifaceted.

So be bold my mama (and daddy) friends! Follow your dreams and your heart. Make your children a priority But don’t make them your entire world, because really that is doing them a disservice. To my Lilah lu, I hope that you always know how much your mama loves you and also how much your mama tries to care for herself. I love you little one❤️

Parenting-amazingly exhausting

/in , , ,

It’s like everything worthwhile in life. Beyond amazing, yet beyond exhausting. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, and yet I’d give anything for just one day to myself.

When I look back on my life so far I see this pattern. The things that are most worth it are the ones that stretch my every limit and leave me wondering, “can I do this?”. Author Shauna Niequist would call it the “bittersweet” of life. The real, raw, intense, excruciating is also the most beautiful, the most rewarding.

I love the bittersweet in life. I love the challenge and the uncertainty, the deep joy, and peace. But I also don’t. Because anyone who knows me knows that uncertainty when it comes to what’s next is NOT MY THING. I spend a lot of my time clinging to the illusion of control (working on it).

So God gave me Lilah Grace. The most beautiful little person I’ve ever set my eyes on. She is pure JOY. And yet she fights sleep like I’ve never seen. She won’t take a bottle. She knows exactly what she wants and my schedule is out the window. It makes me chuckle. There’s that bittersweet again. All the best things in life have it.

And if I’m being perfectly honest, I’m unbelievably exhausted both physically and emotionally. And I’m ridiculously happy. In the same day I’m texting Eric to “please for the love of god get home right away I’m going crazy” and sending him videos of our little lulu cooing away. I find it amazing that the two can go together even at all.

When I hit the bittersweets in life I always know I’m going to be learning and growing. Here’s to parenting, the most bittersweet thing I’ve ever done.

You’re a Good Mom If…

/in , , , , , , ,

For years I have heard mothers labeled as “good moms” and “bad moms”. As a middle class white Christian woman, most of the people I know are labeled by society as “good moms” (which is a whole other issue of discussion). However after working years in foster care, I have also gotten to know the ones that many call “bad moms”. And oh it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that there’s this division between who is a good mom and who is not. A “good mom” is really one step away from a “bad mom” if we take away her resources. Could any of us really do it if we had a colicky baby in a one room apartment with no partner or family to support us, barely any money for food, and an addiction that has gripped us for years? And yet some of us have all the resources and struggle still.

Motherhood is NOT easy.

I want to scratch “good mom” and “bad mom” from our vocabularies. Because it produces shame, plants guilt, fosters hopelessness. I think many of us wonder if we are truly a good mom, regardless of how the world labels us. We wonder if we’re giving our little one everything they need, supporting their development, creating a healthy bond. But there are so many colors and shades of those colors when it comes to motherhood. We all do it differently. And that is more than okay-it is a gift.

You’re a good mom if you breastfeed or bottle feed, or whether you get milk from a donor whose producing like a farm cow. You’re a good mom if you vaccinate or don’t vaccinate-because both can be scary and the choices can feel hard. You’re a good mom if your baby sleeps on you all day or if they have a beautifully designed sleep schedule. You’re a good mom if your hair looks nice every day or if it’s in a greasy messy bun. You’re a good mom if your house is a mess or if it’s clean and organized. You’re a good mom if you lost all that baby weight upfront or if it’s hanging on for dear life. You’re a good mom if you struggle with a mental illness or if your seratonin functions like a champ. You’re a good mom if your kids have never had a Dorito or if it’s Dino nuggets for dinner every night. You’re a good mom if your little people get baths every night or once a week (if you’re lucky). You’re a good mom if your kids go to private school, public school, or are homeschooled. You’re a good mom if you’ve lived in the same house they’re whole lives or moved around a bunch. You’re a good mom if you back delicious treats for your kids or if you use your oven as storage. You’re a good mom if you’re up in the morning with a pep in you’re step or if you need 75 cups of coffee not to yell everything that comes out if your mouth. You’re a good mom on the days you have patience and the days you do not. You’re a good mom if your kid ends up in rehab, or if they struggle through a mental illness, or if they defy everything you’ve ever taught them. You’re a good mom if you love your kids and are doing your best-whatever that looks like for you. And sometimes that means dumping the kids on someone else for a few hours and crying under the comforter. Sometimes it means taking 3 buses to get to a one hour visit with your kids, trying not to cry as you wonder how you lost them. Sometimes our best is barely breathing. And sometimes we’ve got to pull up our bootstraps and do the things anyway. But we’re all different. Motherhood looks different for all of us. And at the end of the day all of our kids will need therapy anyway.