Updated: April 5, 2017
Originally Published: Aug. 18, 2013
I recently found myself feeling utterly lost, much like when you misplace your car in a sprawling parking lot. You know it’s parked somewhere nearby; otherwise, how could you be standing in the middle of a shopping plaza, trying to manage a couple of kids and a cart overflowing with groceries? Still, until you locate it, doubts creep in, and you start to question your sanity and your ability to navigate the chaos of parenting. This feeling struck me hard a few weeks ago, and I realized I was lost in the maze of parenthood.
The joy of being a mother had somehow drained the joy from my life. I was overwhelmed by a laundry list of unmet commitments and disheartened by the fact that the bathrooms hadn’t seen a cleaning in over a month. My partner had even called me a grouch earlier that day. As I prepared my daughter’s lunch for the next day, I felt as though I was trudging through one monotonous task after another, feeling more lost by the minute.
My kids are still quite young; my daughter is three and a half, and my twin boys are just a year old. On certain days, it feels like an endless grind. Between the babies’ incessant cries, the countless diaper changes, and the meals I prepare on repeat, I find myself yearning for time. Time to accomplish tasks that don’t revolve around my children. Time to relax. Time to share a moment with my partner. Time to simply be alone. I crave it all.
Parenting is the most selfless endeavor I’ve ever undertaken. Yet, paradoxically, it also breeds a certain selfishness within me. After a day of being spoken to, touched, climbed upon, and shed tears upon, I often wish for a refuge where I can just disappear. No demands, no questions, no one needing anything from me.
These feelings often spill over onto my friends and partner, while my children become the recipients of my inner turmoil. When my boys resist sleep, my mind races with thoughts of, “Please! Just go to sleep already!” And when I’m done playing or watching them play, I can’t help but feel a tinge of boredom, wishing I could be anywhere else but in that moment.
These are my kids, three beautiful souls who bring immense joy to my life. I wanted them more than anything, yet there are moments when I long for an escape from their presence. I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and though tears are rare for me, they flowed freely that night in the kitchen. My partner, much more composed during such moments, listened without trying to fix anything. Instead, we discussed how I could find a better balance between being a stay-at-home and work-at-home mom. She reassured me that this struggle wouldn’t last forever and helped rekindle my belief that I wasn’t truly lost.
The person I was before motherhood is still within me; she’s just a bit harder to find at times. What keeps me going are the small joys that come with raising kids: a tea party with my daughter, the joyful laughter of my boys, our first family hike. While the lead-up and aftermath of these blissful moments can be exhausting, it’s during them that I feel most like myself.
As my children grow, I know there will be more opportunities to do things together rather than solely for them. This thought gives me hope. It’s a reminder to breathe and embrace the promise of what’s to come, even if the reality of losing myself again feels imminent. Despite the chaos, everything I seek is still within reach.
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