It seems that many moms online really dislike when random people at the grocery store say, “You’ve got your hands full!” There are endless memes about this, and while they often make me chuckle, I find myself agreeing with those well-meaning strangers. Because, honestly, they are spot on: I, like many other moms, indeed have my hands full—even if it’s not always in the way they imply.
Just yesterday, I was walking my kids along the picturesque sandy path near our home (which sounds lovely, but let’s be real: I had both my children with me during the afternoon when one or both should have been napping). An older woman, walking a rather shabby-looking beagle, stopped to raise her eyebrows at my 32-week pregnant belly and said, “Girl, you’re brave.”
Many internet moms would likely have reacted strongly to such a comment. It felt intrusive and a tad rude. However, to my surprise, I laughed out loud. I even had a little accident (which, at this stage of pregnancy, isn’t uncommon). She smiled, gestured toward my stroller, and wished me “good luck with all that” as she continued walking her dog. I actually adore that woman because I see a version of myself in her 30 years from now.
Having two children under four is certainly a rollercoaster. My hands, pockets, and patience are all full. In just a few months, we’ll be adding another little one to the mix. The decision to expand our family was not made lightly. My husband and I wrestled with the idea for a year, nearly every night. As the woman on the street implied, having a third child is genuinely daunting.
The risks of pregnancy can be intimidating, as is the financial responsibility of three kids. Not to mention, I’ll officially be outnumbered when I venture out with the little ones without my husband. Yet, what scares me most is the initial, and arguably the most adorable, stage of parenthood: the newborn phase.
I’ve never been a fan of the newborn stage. In fact, I had a strong dislike for sleep consultant Cara Dumaplin long before it became fashionable to do so, primarily because her $120 course promised to make me “love the newborn phase.” Spoiler alert: I took the plunge, and it didn’t work.
During my first pregnancy, I was anxious about the health of my baby and the delivery process. The idea of childbirth was so overwhelming that I struggled to fathom what the following days and weeks would look like. Like many new mothers, I brought home a healthy baby, only to be confronted by challenges that no amount of classes or reading had prepared me for.
In those early weeks, I was taken aback by the sheer intensity of sleep deprivation, the surreal experience of having a baby who seemed to sleep all day while I achieved very little, and how my body felt so foreign. Breastfeeding was difficult, and the emotional waves I rode were unpredictable and overwhelming.
Among these challenges, the pervasive sadness that lingered during what should have been joyous moments was the most startling. I had experienced sadness before, but always tied to specific life events. This time, I had every reason to feel happy, yet I found myself feeling down more often than not.
When my second child arrived, he slept even less and was prone to sickness. The “baby blues” I encountered with my first were more pronounced the second time around. I had a better grasp on how my hormones affected my mood, yet, with a daughter watching my every move, it was even more challenging to grant myself the grace to process my feelings.
As I prepare for the arrival of my third child, I still worry about many things—health, delivery, and the aftermath. However, my primary concern is feeling that sadness again while knowing my two little ones will be observing me as I navigate this challenging time.
When that woman told me I was “brave,” I suspect she meant it sarcastically. If my kids were old enough to understand, I might have felt compelled to clarify that they are not the burden she implied. My children are adorable and, after my husband, the greatest blessings in my life.
Despite her possible sarcasm, her remark transported me to a future version of myself, rocking a newborn in the middle of the night, grappling with pain while trying to soothe a fussy baby. I envisioned afternoons filled with puzzles, moments of awe at my kids’ growth, and the struggle of balancing joy with the weight of sadness. I imagined family dinners where I’d be caught up in my thoughts about the challenges ahead while my daughter shared her day.
While I dread the upcoming postpartum phase, I am equally excited about what it signifies. My children have radically improved my life in ways I could never have anticipated. The joyful moments deserve celebration, but the tough times are just as meaningful.
When I think about my kids witnessing my struggles and sadness, I feel a pang of heartbreak but also a sense of pride. Life is undeniably tough. They will face myriad challenges as they grow up, likely experiencing feelings of failure and doubt. Even if they don’t remember those first weeks after their brother is born, I hope they retain a glimpse of my struggle and resilience as a reminder of what true life and bravery look like.
I know that soon, I’ll be wandering the grocery store, three kids in tow, when a stranger will shout, “You’ve got your hands full!” I won’t resent them. Partly because I won’t have the mental space for it, but also because they’ll be absolutely right. My hands will always be full, and I’m eternally grateful that I was brave enough to embrace that.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is filled with challenges and moments of joy. While the newborn phase can be daunting, the love and transformation that come with raising children make it all worthwhile. Embracing the full spectrum of emotions is essential in navigating the beautiful chaos of family life.
Keyphrase: brave motherhood
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