For some time, I wasn’t entirely sure that I would be able to become a mother naturally. Up until then, I had not given motherhood much thought, aside from knowing that I wasn’t against it. But once I was told, by four different doctors no less, that I would never become pregnant, being a mother was all I wanted to be.
My own mother was a single parent, who had passed away while I was in my early twenties, and I have no siblings. I had just met the person I could see myself spending the rest of my life with, and not being able to offer him the experience of having his own family, unsettled me deeply.
Apparently, my line of work was too stressful for me. My hormones were suffering, and my body was sending signals. I found out I had PCOS*. So I took the hint life was giving me- I changed my environment, and gave up my stressful job.
I made a lot of lifestyle changes for a chance at parenthood and family life. When I finally did fall pregnant, I was the happiest pregnant lady you would’ve ever seen. All throughout my pregnancy I was just daydreaming about baby cuddles and baby kisses. I was looking forward to being a mom. I knew I would be tired, but happy and so in love.
As I was fortunate to have made a career early on, I always felt in control and was used to calling the shots. Fast forward to just having given birth, i found myself sitting in a dark room in the wee hours of the morning, breastfeeding with an inflamed, angry nipple and extra body rolls to rest my elbows on. To say that I felt like my life was derailing rather quickly, is an understatement.
Everyone has an opinion on what a mother should NOT be, and in accordance to this, we create our own minefield to walk on. But surprisingly, I wasn’t worried. I wanted this, I had chosen to become a mother and had fought hard for it. I was ready. Or so I thought.
The journey from the idyllic version of the mother I had in my head, to being happy about the mother I actually became, was arduous and disheartening at times. There were so many moments when I thought I sucked, and it pains me to even recall them.
My first child was born three years into what turned out to be an almost decade long stint in Peru. From the day my first daughter was born, she had a nanny. That is a simple fact. Everything else is anything but simple.
My conversational Spanish skills were good enough to share a joke, but often meant I sounded like I was using simplified baby language. It was from that position of vulnerability that I tried to run my household. Having lived 10 years in the Philippines, employing someone to help you at home was no longer a foreign concept to me, although I certainly did not grow up with a Yaya or a maid in Austria.
My recollection is blurry but giving birth took a lot out of me, and recovery was slow. To make matters worse, I had an ear infection right after and just felt dazed. I was hurting all over. Obviously, I was overwhelmed and also confused by so many choices and decisions that needed to be made. It was in this state that I agreed to take on a nanny, right there on the spot at the hospital. A South-American woman, a wife of an expat that we had befriended, had brought her old nanny along, for me to take over, so to speak. And that’s how one of my life lessons began.
I want to be clear. I was there every day, bathed my baby every evening and was present for all her little milestones. Never did I doubt my love for her, nor did I have postpartum depression. I breastfed her for 18 months! I was fine, we were fine. But (and I hope you’re ready for this next bit, because it still breaks my heart to talk about it) this little human bundle of joy, was someone I failed to build a connection with. “Is that even normal?”, you might ask. Quite rightfully so, because I asked myself the same thing. Nobody told me that this could happen, where do women talk about these conflicting experiences without fear of judgment?
Believe me, you can’t even begin to imagine how strange all of this felt to me. Me, who had wanted a shot at this so badly. Every mother goes through trying times, but going through this without actually feeling a connection was extremely difficult. I was tired, and quite frankly, dumbfounded.
It took me a while to face it head on. This meant discovering, naming, and fighting my inner demons. I figured, I might as well take advantage of the fact that we had a nanny. So I went to yoga and brunch during the day, and couples dinners and parties at night. Because even though I could sense my child turning towards the nanny more often than me; I didn’t know how to phase the nanny out.
I knew she had to go, but I also did not move fast enough to get rid of her. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The set-up was tried and tested. Everyone around me thought I’d be grateful to have some help with the baby. And of course I was, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right for me.
I couldn’t understand why. The nanny was there to help me, after all. To regain my footing and bounce back to the life I had pre-baby. I mean, honestly, in retrospect, it’s the most ridiculous idea- to bounce back. My life pre-baby was a fast paced, always colorful, always moving, jigsaw.
In stark contrast to that stood the sudden change of scenery: A softly played lullaby and some pretty light filtering through the whimsical curtains. Clumsily spoken languages, whispered between two women of different cultures and backgrounds. Between us this little blob of pure wonder and it’s overproduction of saliva.
I wasn’t against any of it. I would in fact, in future years, after having made my personal adjustments, come to enjoy these kind of seemingly boring moments immensely. But I have to admit that in the early days, I perceived us to be moving extremely slow. It was difficult for me to feel any kind of momentum or gain traction, and that feeling was so alien to me, I ran away whenever I could. To the gym, to lunch, to a party.
The realization did not come easy. What needed to be implemented felt like I was about to rip a band-aid off. I personally (and I’m sure this is different for everyone) simply did not learn what I needed to learn as a mother while only being there half of the time.
Until I was making – not just sufficient, but more than enough – space and time for my baby, I wouldn’t reap the idyllic benefits of being a mother either. I was already late in starting a relationship with my own flesh and blood, having that third person around constantly, simply meant I wouldn’t step up.
For me to bond with my child, to the degree that is needed to understand her, and what was best for her I needed to take over. I needed to be alone with her, forced to figure it out by myself. I learned that I would simply not do it until I had to. Good intentions be damned.
Nannies are not the enemy and, of course, can be a big help. Personally, I just didn’t know how to handle the situation correctly, or take control when needed, and delegate accordingly.
I recognized the fact that being a full-time mom is not an option. You are always a mom, no matter where you go or what you do. I love my child with every fiber of me and I knew in my bones that I was a mother. But what being a mother meant logistically, how that would alter my day to day routines, was something that I had yet to work out.
The sooner I made this situation my own, the better. This is what I’ve learned- you gotta make this thing work for you, you know what I mean? The sooner you make this situation tailor fit to you, and figure out what you need to look after your family better, the sooner you will be able to own this shit. And owning it you must, because only you can give this special nucleus (your family) what it needs.
And so we let the nanny go. Then, I had an almost shock to my system with all the intense alone time i had with my child. Still, it took me years to get to know her. She is 10 now and I feel we just turned the page to the next chapter. We had to go through all the developmental stages of a mother-daughter relationship from the beginning, and I finally feel like we are up to date. I can now confidently, and proudly say that she is my daughter through and through.
Many moments during that journey I felt like an utter failure. I felt stuck, as if I was handed a circumstance that I couldn’t change. I was tired, I was recovering, but I never gave up. I was watching and taking notes, and when I felt healed, I implemented.
I believe this difficult time made me a stronger mother. I’m not easily rattled by other parents or by different approaches. What works for them might not work for me, and that’s okay. Today, my opinions as a parent are steadfast, and my view of other families is kinder and more forgiving. I’m not sure if reading this will ever help anyone, the way that writing it helped me, but THANK YOU. In the very unlikely case you’ve actually read all of this, you can proceed to my DMs, because we’re best friends now. =)
*To know more about what PCOS meant for me and how I managed to get pregnant despite my diagnosis, further details can be found on my Instagram. Feel free to head on over or send someone that way should they need that info.
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