The Mother Load

I know that May is over, but I am still stuck on the plight of mothers. When my daughter was an infant a friend of mine who was not yet a mom asked me “What is it like being in the club?” What club, I asked. “The Mother Club”. She saw it as a very exclusive, special, all knowing existence of purpose. And in the beginning I felt that way too.

Because I came late to motherhood and never expected to be one, I saw it as an amazing accomplishment that I never thought I would attain. I savored each proud moment of childhood development with wonderment and a ‘pinch me I can’t believe this is happening to me’ feeling. Now, years later, so much has changed.

Technically I’m still in the ‘club’ but rarely does a day go by that I don’t feel like someone made a terrible mistake and I should never have been allowed to be a mother. Maybe there was a mix up. The job of mothering is the most gut wrenching, humbling, exhausting, unpredictable, unheralded thing I have ever done. Instead of feeling better about my ability to mother as time goes by, I feel less capable with each passing day. I don’t think I was cut out to be a mother at all.

And so, I guess, goes motherhood. Just when I think I’ve maybe got it right-Wham-it knocks me for a loop and I have to start all over again. For me, right now, it seems like a trial by fire and the fire is winning.

I’d like to give up, but I can’t, my nature won’t let me, so I will remain, as steadfast as I can, dealing with the Mother Load.