How Motherhood Helped Me Find Myself
I have spent my entire life with the presumption that I knew who I was. I was the A student, the leader, the smart one, the good girl. I always had everything "just so" and never appeared to be bad at anything I tried, except sports, I was awful at sports. Perfectionism ran through my blood. There were always pristine check marks next to to-do list items because I never left anything undone. Even if I felt like I was losing it, I made sure it never showed. I was every parent's dream. Rarely did I disobey, never did I miss curfew, and I always hung around the right crowds. I cared so much about my image and how others perceived me that friends and people from my childhood got to know who I wanted to be, not who I actually was in my very core. Until recently, I only knew myself as that way too. I knew my image, I knew how others saw me, but I never knew myself, not until recently. Not until I became a mom.
The moment I found out I was pregnant there was a great internal shift inside of me. From the instant those two pink lines showed up on the most important test of my life, I realized that I was no longer in charge. There was this tiny little organism inside of me that now ruled the show. He would soon dictate what I ate, on which side of my body I slept on, and even what face wash I used. The control I held over my life quickly slipped out of my hands like sand seeping out of a tightly clenched fist. And for the first time in my life, I was okay with that.
Never until I became a mom did I truly look in the mirror and get a genuine hard look at myself. For the first time, I saw and accepted my shortcomings. I stopped fighting my inadequacies with perfectionism and I acknowledged them for what they are, faults. I'm not the best cook, I don't care if my laundry is perfectly folded and put away, and in a stressful "fight or flight" situation, I'll run like the wind every time. I have always had these imperfections, but I never wanted to admit it to myself. I think a large part of me was scared that if I was not perfect, I wouldn't be a good daughter, wife, or friend. But mom? I knew I'd be a good mom. I felt it in my very bones and while I occasionally had my doubts, I knew this was one area I wouldn't have to fake. I may not always care if every Lego is picked up and I may, on the occasion, give in to a tantrum and let my son have potato chips for breakfast, but I am a good mom. I am a good mom because I am doing everything in my power to raise a loving, kind, understanding, and accepting human being. Maybe my perfectionism left my brain because I became a mom, maybe it's because I stopped caring what others thought of me, or maybe it's because motherhood finally gave me the confidence I lacked all along. I am not less than because I am not perfect. I am exactly who my little boy needs me to be. And you know what mamas? You are exactly who your little ones need you to be too, imperfections and all.
The moment I found out I was pregnant there was a great internal shift inside of me. From the instant those two pink lines showed up on the most important test of my life, I realized that I was no longer in charge. There was this tiny little organism inside of me that now ruled the show. He would soon dictate what I ate, on which side of my body I slept on, and even what face wash I used. The control I held over my life quickly slipped out of my hands like sand seeping out of a tightly clenched fist. And for the first time in my life, I was okay with that.
Never until I became a mom did I truly look in the mirror and get a genuine hard look at myself. For the first time, I saw and accepted my shortcomings. I stopped fighting my inadequacies with perfectionism and I acknowledged them for what they are, faults. I'm not the best cook, I don't care if my laundry is perfectly folded and put away, and in a stressful "fight or flight" situation, I'll run like the wind every time. I have always had these imperfections, but I never wanted to admit it to myself. I think a large part of me was scared that if I was not perfect, I wouldn't be a good daughter, wife, or friend. But mom? I knew I'd be a good mom. I felt it in my very bones and while I occasionally had my doubts, I knew this was one area I wouldn't have to fake. I may not always care if every Lego is picked up and I may, on the occasion, give in to a tantrum and let my son have potato chips for breakfast, but I am a good mom. I am a good mom because I am doing everything in my power to raise a loving, kind, understanding, and accepting human being. Maybe my perfectionism left my brain because I became a mom, maybe it's because I stopped caring what others thought of me, or maybe it's because motherhood finally gave me the confidence I lacked all along. I am not less than because I am not perfect. I am exactly who my little boy needs me to be. And you know what mamas? You are exactly who your little ones need you to be too, imperfections and all.
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