Motherhood- a most beautiful and painful journey

I gave birth to my second daughter during the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic.  The experience leading up to delivery was somewhat traumatic.  All we kept hearing about were deaths and the unquantifiable risks of coronavirus to pregnant women and their unborn babies. 

Just before lockdown, we had returned from our holiday in Paris- our last hurrah as a family of three before our second daughter’s arrival.  Little did we know that this would be our last semblance of normality for a long while.

Soon after we returned from Paris, lockdown was imposed.  My plans of wanting to do things differently for my second delivery, postpartum recovery and maternity leave slowly started to slip away.  I had zero control.  As with my first, I had planned a “natural” birth, even though not much about my first birthing experience was “natural”.  For various reasons, including a desire to establish predictable childcare arrangements for my toddler during a pandemic, I ended up with a C-section.  I was gutted.

We planned to hire help after birth.  We couldn’t.  There were significant restrictions in place that precluded us from allowing even our cleaner to come to our home.  My parents were going to visit us from New York to meet our new baby and help with the first few weeks.  They couldn’t.  In fact, my in laws who live 45 minutes away couldn’t visit.  They were shielding.  To this day, neither set of grandparents have held our second daughter.  She is now 10.5 months old. 

My husband and I had to juggle parenting a toddler, while taking care of a newborn and my husband had to maintain his job while my body recovered from major surgery.  Nothing went according to plan.  I broke down soon after delivery.

The lack of sleep, the breastfeeding highs and lows, the relentless pursuit of “keeping it together” not for appearances but for my own sanity and my family’s wellbeing, the anxiety leading up to delivery and coping with postpartum pain and not recognising my body had all caught up with me. 

My mood swung like a ping pong ball.  As I described it to my husband, each time I wrestled with extreme emotions, it felt like an outer body experience.  I felt like a helpless witness each time I was thrusted on an emotional roller coaster.   

Now, at nearly a year postpartum, I am better but have not fully recovered.  I struggle with my emotions daily.  Angry and frustrated at my relentless pursuit of raising my children to the highest standards possible, driven by the fear of being judged by no one other than me— my harshest critic.  I struggle with raising a brilliant, energetic, and loving toddler who has needs of her own and who is masterfully adjusting to her new role as big sister and older daughter.  I grapple with my emotions of being an inadequate wife who has “let herself go”. 

To my family’s detriment, I sometimes see my husband, a loving partner and a hands-on father, as a competitor.  I am often in awe of his ability to get on with things and his ability to bond with and raise daughters so beautifully.  I often wonder why he manages to keep it together and often resent him for getting it right almost all the time.  I forget that he didn’t grow a baby inside of him for 9 months, birth a baby during a pandemic, go through major surgery and then exclusively breastfeed to keep our baby alive.  And most importantly, I forget that he is simply doing his best and trying to be helpful where he lacks utter control.

I began work earlier this year.  While the transition hasn’t been easy, I have transitioned from a full time mother to a mother of two and a wife juggling a very demanding and high intensity job. 

Among these competing interests and roles, when and how do I find time for myself?  Where and when do I come up for air?  I have exactly fifteen more mins before my baby wakes up, so I’ll need to finish here.

While I am consumed by the overwhelming feeling of not being good enough.  I wonder when and whether it will be enough. 

Acceptance of one’s true self is no easy feat.  Not in the least because society teaches us to strive for better, work harder and achieve more.  I hope that one day I will be able to step into my true self and be at peace with the imperfect human that I am.  I hope that one day I will embrace my deepest insecurities and even deeper strengths that have blessed me with so much in my life. May this moment, here, be enough.