Dear Mom-to-be,
Perhaps you’re wondering why I didn’t purchase a card to accompany your baby shower gift. Perhaps you’re now fearing that parenthood makes you so impoverished that you can no longer afford even the cheapie cards from the $.99 aisle. Or maybe you’re worrying that “mommy brain” is real and you can’t believe I remembered a gift and the date and the location of your shower.
Those are not the reasons. {Those are not entirely the reasons.}
The reason is that I have a complicated relationship with babies.
Actually, I have a complicated relationship with motherhood.
Greeting cards are not complicated. Greeting cards involving babies look like this:
Or they look like this:
And yes, there is joy and happiness headed your way. Babies are adorable and sweet and snuggly and they smell wonderful. And baby showers are about joy and happiness. So why couldn’t I just buy one of those damn cute happy cards and write some touching note about how you’ll love it so much and how it will be exciting and amazing and dreamy?
Well… it’s because I don’t know what it will be like for you. I got all those same cards and all those same blessings, and found myself utterly unprepared for and overwhelmed by motherhood. As far as rites of passage go, baby showers are not terribly effective for preparing us for the new stage of life we are about to enter.
You may fall in love with your baby right away. Or it might take a while for you to love your baby. It might be exciting. It might be boring. It may be dreamy. It may be a nightmare. All in the same day.
{Now I know you are thinking, Who the hell invited this Debby Downer to my goddamn baby shower?!? Please let me explain. I’m writing this note INSTEAD of bringing all this up at the shower. Though I think we’d all be a little better off as new mothers if we made these rituals more realistic.}
I know this isn’t about me — this shower is about you. But I just cannot, in good faith, give you one of those saccharine cards about motherhood. Because this is really about all of us.
My memories of the baby years are complicated, which make baby showers complicated for me.
When I think of the baby years, I remember lots of smiles and laughs. And I also remember a lot of crying and frustration and sadness.
I remember times when it was easy and quiet and serene. And I remember times when it was hard and noisy and miserable.
I remember thinking I was always meant to be a mother. And I remember wondering why I ever chose to become a mother.
I remember loving my days at home with my children. And I remember being bored out of my mind and desperately wanting to be back at work.
But wouldn’t you know, I couldn’t find a single damn card at Target that would convey all the nuances and subtleties of new motherhood to you!
When I went just one aisle over, however, I found quite a few cards that revealed a different side of motherhood. I saw images of mothers hiding under beds to get some quiet time, of children destroying furniture and walls, and of not-very-cute babies screaming their little heads off. I saw mothers who hadn’t showered and hadn’t slept, changing diapers and drinking alcohol and screaming their big heads off.
Those were the Mother’s Day cards.
What is this ridiculous conspiracy all about? We shower women with cards depicting bonnets and bottles and blankets and binkies and bears before they have children, and only after they’ve become a mother do we reveal the bumps and bruises and boring banality of parenting? {See — “mommy brain” is NOT real. I can still TOTALLY rock alliteration.}
Sure, there were flowery and Victorian-scripty cards about motherhood. But there was also this:
Lots of chores no one helps you with…
A husband who’s just as much work as the kids…
A family you’re stuck with… but Happy Mother’s Day!
… and no one in the house listens to you!
Which is probably why lots of the cards depict mommy drinking lots of alcohol:
Seriously, WTF is all this alcohol doing in mother’s day cards?!?
Clearly, we don’t have a problem with being honest about the downside of motherhood in mother’s day cards.
I wrote this post several months ago suggesting a different type of baby shower card — something, perhaps, like this:
“There will be big joys, and there will be happiness. And sometimes it will just suck. But we’re all in the same boat. Call me when you need some help rowing.”
I think I would have rolled my eyes at a card like that at my shower. Three months later, I would have been relieved to know I wasn’t alone.
So here’s what I will give you, instead of the store-bought card. I went through the cards I received at my baby shower eight years ago. And I added the additional commentary that I think they need. That you may need. Or not need at all.
As I said, it’s complicated.
But some days might be hell. Call me.
… and will completely fill your head so that you can think of nothing else but the lyrics to Old MacDonald or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. You might think you’re going crazy. Put down the chardonnay and call me.
But if you’re not feeling the joy today, it’s okay. If you cried today, it’s okay. Call me.
Yes, dear, this is what some days will look like. And some days it will be awesome and pastel-colored like this card. And some days it might suck the life out of you. Call me.
This one’s actually pretty accurate. You need a nap. Call me.
It probably is exciting. Call me and tell me about that, too.
Hell, we’ll go celebrate and drink some margaritas. It’s almost Mother’s Day, after all.
*****
Want to read more “Dear Mom” letters? Check out the Finish the Sentence Friday linkup here!
- A Mindful Approach to New Year’s Resolutions - January 13, 2020
- Just This Next Step - December 16, 2019
- WAIT: A Mindfulness Practice for Waiting in Line - December 9, 2019
