I met a lovely woman the other day. She had three children under the age of six, and one child on the way. I said, thinking I was being neutral, “You have your hands full.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied firmly, with a smile. The conversation effectively shut down at that point.
I believed her. I also envied her.
Entering into parenthood was a wilderness place for me. Don’t get me wrong: from the moment I realized I was pregnant, I felt a bond with Isaac. I knew I wanted him. And I have loved him with a love I didn’t know existed before I’d given birth.
But I also had a boatload of baggage to deal with, fast.
My own mother was a single, schizophrenic woman with the ability to be tender and funny, as well as violent and arbitrary. I lived with her for 13 years, until some kind church folks we’d connected with in Sheboygan, Wisconsin intervened. I lived for the next five years in foster care. I had what a therapist eventually diagnosed as “complex PTSD.” Years of physical violence, poverty, rootlessness (we moved 50 times in our 13 years together) and chronic stress left me a lot to figure out, relearn and heal.
To say I lacked skills in parenting would be a massive understatement.
I also had no support from Isaac’s father. We were both surprised by this turn of events, and when he got hostile and accused me of trapping him into parenthood, I chose to cut ties (as was his request). I was going to be on my own with this new life, and I had to figure out quickly not only how to parent but how to support us financially. I also had the ideal of being as much of a stay-at-home mom as possible for his early years, so I would have to do some fancy footwork to make that financially feasible.
Wilderness places have serious risks and challenges. As a single parent, caring for Isaac in the first four years of his life was definitely one of mine.
For those mothers for whom nurturing and tapping into their inner resourcefulness are natural and comfortable, I applaud you. I’m so glad that there are mothers who don’t struggle as I did. I have learned from some of you personally and added tools to my parenting tool bag by observing you and talking with you.
For those mothers who struggled – or still struggle – I hope that both this blog and my book will give you hope and support. Even highly-resourced people have difficulties parenting well when the baby interrupts their sleep – again (and again and again); when work and a sick baby compete for their precious little energy and time; when their toddler tests a parent’s patience with defiance or the desire to “sing ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ one more time, Mommy,” fifty times. When we’re dealing with trauma ourselves, perhaps have never figured out how to parent ourselves, let alone another human being, parenting another human being whose future hinges on our ability to be present, loving and secure can be a seemingly insurmountable challenge.
This blog, and my book, are for you and for those who love you and would like to know how to support you.
Wilderness of Motherhood 