it isn't always bliss

“I’m like so happy and my life is like so great. I do fun things all the time and like everything is totally perfect for me ALWAYS.”

Scrolling through my never ending feeds on Instagram and Facebook there is an all too common theme of optimism and bliss. Is it really so that all the world around me are living such perfect lives? Could it be that everyone is really that happy and everything is always that great? Or just maybe it is a facade. We all wear social media masks to hide our vulnerabilities and moments of weakness, I’m no different. My blog has always been different however.

Posting smiling selfies on Instagram or a cheery status update on facebook is the norm, yet in my blog I find it easier to be more authentic. In my darkest hours I would spin the pains of my soul into words and pieces for others to read and perhaps find relief or comradery. Now that I’m a mom I have felt an unprecedented desire to keep up with all the other moms. It feels incredibly taboo to ever admit even for just a second that this motherhood thing ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. This fear has spilled over into my blog where I’ve mostly shared mushy lovey gooey feelings about being a mommy. I feel the need to talk about some things that have been on my mind in an effort to quash the belief that admitting dissatisfaction is somehow synonymous with loving my child less.

I miss my freedom. This isn’t to say that I feel like some sort of caged animal plotting and planning my escape but I do miss my life feeling like it was mine. I can’t just throw on some clothes and take off on a jog whenever I want. I can’t run to the grocery store to pick up some toothpaste without the miniscule errand being a big production. I need to make sure that the baby’s bag is ready, the base is in the car, he’s buckled in his car seat and he’s dry and he’s fed and he’s hopefully not fussy, just so that I can lug his car seat out of the car, into the store to buy one stupid tube of toothpaste. Or there’s the other option of finding a sitter, usually my mom or dad, in which case I have to make sure he is dry, fed, and hopefully not fussy before I can even run to the store. Even then it seems ridiculous to have them sit him for me to just buy a tube of toothpaste. So then I have to think, okay what else do I need to buy? How much grocery shopping can I get done? Is this something I really need to buy now or am I buying it just because I don’t know when the next time I’ll have the chance to do this will be?... see how quickly its become a production? Running to the store to buy one thing is no longer something I can do.

I HATE my body. It doesn’t matter how many times I am reminded or reassured by loved ones that my body created, housed, and birthed a miracle, I still hate my body. For the miracle that came out of my body, it sure looks like hell for it. I’ve always struggled with body image issues which might explain why I am always working so hard on making my body look the way I want. Right now my body looks and feels like nothing I have ever wanted. I don’t recognize my breasts, they used to make me feel womanly, feminine and attractive. Now… now they just make me sad. My body feels soft and jiggly everywhere, when I run I can feel my flesh flopping around. Since when is floppy flesh something I’m supposed to be happy about? I’ve already started training again. I have started a lifting schedule and am trying to find a way to fit in some cardio, I have almost completely cleaned up my diet. Once upon a time I trained like this and I lost a pound every week for 12 weeks… its like my body doesn’t know how to lose weight anymore. I feel defeated when I glance down at the scale and see I’ve not only not lost weight, I’ve gained it. Which is normal, it could just be water weight. I also hate being told to get used to it.

Finally, motherhood isn’t always blissful. The stock photos used in all the marketing geared toward ‘mom’s like me’ would have me believe otherwise. The pictures would have me believe that my baby is always going to be happy and staring up at me with wonderment. Or that my baby is going to be sleeping like a sweet little angel whilst I ooo and awe over him. At 4 o’clock in the morning having finally gone to bed at 2, my sweet little angel is up once again. I’ve changed him, fed him, and burped him and yet he’s still screaming in my ear.. where is the wonderment in this scenario stock photos? Where is it then? Where is the stock photo that is supposed to include me and the struggles I’ve had with breast feeding? I’d also like to know for one thing, how on earth does a baby know the difference between me sitting and holding him verses standing up and holding him? Why is standing up so much better for him? I’m still bouncing him, I’m still making all the same noises, what gives? What is so great about me having to stand up??? I’ll never know.

I know that it is the darkest times that make the sweetest times all the more sweeter. It is for that very reason that we encounter hardships in the first place. When that sweet little boy smiles up at me, a smile so big his eyes are almost closed and all his dimples are all accounted for, I quickly forget the sleepless night I just went through and how tired I am. In that moment it all becomes worth it. I love my little baby with all my heart but that doesn’t mean I have to love all the hardships that go along with being a mommy. Admitting that there are things I don’t love about this new stage of life doesn’t mean I love him any less, it just means I am human and admitting that seems pretty fine by me.