I recently had the opportunity to submit an essay for a show called Listen to Your Mother, in which writers are able to read their work on motherhood.  It’s an eclectic show and I would have loved to be part of it, but I was unable to go to my audition due to family circumstances for which I’m still trying to find the words to share with you.  The following is the essay I wrote for the show.  I encourage you all to check out LTYM when it is here in April, it is an amazing show.  

When I became a mother, I had all these grand plans about how it would be. I would have a natural birth, breastfeed, never let my child watch TV, except maybe a documentary. Man, I was going to be the best mom.

Then, I went into labor. The midwife-assisted natural birth plan got crumpled up and tossed in the trash as I was rushed into an emergency c-section before I knew what was happening. The entire foundation on which I built my parenting plan crumbled.

I’m one of the lucky ones who had no problems with breastfeeding, but it couldn’t make up for the fact that I was unable to have my baby naturally. I spent my son’s first six months full of guilt and shame, feeling like less of a mother. We watched a lot of TV. Yet another way I was failing my son and my big plans. I don’t remember that time very well.

After six months I went back to working part time and back to school. Around my son’s first birthday, I finally started feeling normal. I started appreciating my time with him. Then I found out I was pregnant again. Surprise! I wasn’t sure how I could do it. I never said the words, but what if the fog I’d just come out of was postpartum depression? How could I lose another year of my life to that feeling, this time with two babies I was supposed to love and nurture?

Well, I did. I sucked it up and took care of not one but two babies. And it was better. With the second, I basically thought of every decision I made during my first pregnancy and did the opposite. I went to a “real” doctor, and I scheduled the inevitable c-section. I’m still not OK with c-sections. But for my body and children, it was the best choice. My disappointments were milder and I was able to enjoy the time after my second son’s birth.

The next few years flew by. I worked part time, finished college, and began homeschooling the boys. But it was hard. Really hard. About once a month I was required to present in some class or other. It was hell. I would spend the day before the presentation shaking uncontrollably, unable to eat because my stomach was in knots. Many people get stage fright, but this was just ridiculous. But, I got through it and got the piece of paper. Around the same time, I left my job. Because of our decision to homeschool, my husband and I decided that I would stay home full-time.

Everything was awesome when my boys and I were in our own little world, but leaving the house sucked. We joined a homeschool co-op that met once a week once the kids hit a point when they wanted to play with others. I dreaded every Wednesday. Just spending two hours with this group was as difficult for me as giving those reports had been a year earlier. Then, when I hit the point of “it can’t get any worse,” it did. A fatal car accident took place down the street from my house. I became too scared to drive. Soon that devolved into being too scared to leave the house at all. I recall one day crying as we hit the highway on the way to the zoo, my husband driving, totally convinced that we would be in a car accident.

The wannabe crunchy mom in me has always been against antidepressants. It’s all in your head, right? If you want to feel better, just decide to feel better. Change your diet, take up yoga, just be better.

Being unable to take my children to the zoo was a turning point for me. I met with a therapist, who referred me to a psychiatrist, who started me on a treatment plan involving antidepressants.

Slowly, my life began to get better. I could go grocery shopping again. I could go to co-op without wanting to throw up. Eventually I even had conversations with people there! Today I am able to meet new people, go on field trips, and even make friends.

There are moms out there who raise their children the way I’d hoped to raise mine. I respect those women immensely, and I think they are great moms. And then there are moms like me. I sometimes feed my kids fast food and let them watch mindless television. I go to a “brain doctor,” as I explain it to my kids, and I take pills to make me feel better. I’m not the crunchy mom I thought I’d be. But when I look at these boys and how far we’ve come together, I think, “Man. I am the best mom.”