It's rough being a mother. It's harder than anyone ever tells you. And even if someone had told me how difficult it is, I wouldn't have believed them. Believe me. It's rough. And the worst part is, I have spent 14 months trying to figure out how to make it look easy. Trying to focus on the good, and not talk about the difficulties. Now, I'm going to be honest.
I am overwhelmed.
That seems like such an innocuous statement. But literally, from the day Miles was born, I have had only a handful of moments where I didn't feel entirely overwhelmed by him. My brain is constantly in overdrive. My body is exhausted. I am, in a very real sense, entirely overwhelmed by my son. In every way possible.
I am overwhelmed by his energy, which is endless. I am overwhelmed by his refusal to sleep, even at 14 months old. I am overwhelmed by his screaming, which makes me want to pull my hair out and scream myself, because I don't always know how to calm him. I am overwhelmed by his stubbornness, his outbursts, and by his sheer intensity.
But that's just the bad stuff.
I am also overwhelmed by his laugh, which fills my heart with such joy that it wants to burst. I am overwhelmed by his mischievous grin when he tickles me. I am overwhelmed by his squeals of joy, and by his soft sighs when he sleeps. I am overwhelmed by his unconditional love for me.
Mostly, I am overwhelmed by trying to be the best mother for him at every moment. And I am overwhelmed by the fact that I'm not always.
I don't like to admit it, but it's true. I am not the mother I want to be. I make mistakes, and I lose my temper and have to walk away, and I don't always know how to comfort my son. I want to be better, for him, because he deserves nothing but the best.
But I am imperfect. And that is okay. I am trying to learn this.
So, there you have it. I am a mommy. And I am overwhelmed by my child.
And truth be told, I think most mommies are.