Motherhood: The hardest thing I’ve ever done

Motherhood is hard.

Harder than I ever thought it would be.

There, I said it.

Everyone acts like being a mum is this blissful little bubble that feels like rainbows and butterflies 24/7.

In actual fact, motherhood is a rollercoaster – yes, it soars upwards into those moments of heaven on earth, but then catapults into stunning depths of stomach-sinking emotions.

Along the way, during the twists and turns of this crazy ride, there are joyful smiles, deep sighs of exhaustion, soul-brightening laughs, times of hair ripping frustration, moments of genuine hilarity, and flooding rivers of tears (and I’m not even talking about those of your baby).

And throughout it all, there we are learning.

We are changing, evolving, to become someone we were not, before having children. We make mistakes, we figure things out with a whoop of achievement, we feel ashamed and that we’re “doing it wrong”, and then the next day feel like we’re killing this mumma gig.

We also learn to survive on barely any sleep and a limited amount of caffeine (Talk about a challenging feat in its own right!).

I was one of those people that had been in love with the idea of becoming a mum my entire life. When I was still only a child myself I had begun reading my mother’s own pregnancy and baby books from her bookshelf, and as a teenager began collecting my own.

By the time I was in my mid-20s, I would estimate I had read more than 20 books on pregnancy and parenting (and with the invention of YouTube, had watched hours of related content too), and couldn’t wait to start a family of my own.

Immediately prior to the birth of my now 5-month-old baby, I was even working at a nursery, caring for little humans up to 18 months of age.

When my fiancé and I decided to have a baby, now in my late 20s, everyone told me:

“You’ll be fantastic, with all your experience behind you.”

Well, let me tell you: While theoretical knowledge is wonderful, and does of course help a great deal, it does not on its own leave you thoroughly prepared for the job in practice.

It’s like a surgical student being given a textbook, and then before any practical experience, is sent out to conduct brain surgery solo.

I don’t think anyone is truly prepared for parenthood.

I certainly wasn’t, as I came to find out.

Despite my experience as a childcare worker helping to look after a room of up to 12 babies, I felt crushed and exhausted by the weight of looking after my own, single baby.

Despite all the books I had read, I still felt anxious and unsure if I was doing the right thing, even with all the current and accurate advice swirling through my brain.

Despite the breastfeeding class, and the support group I had attended, our breastfeeding journey had a rocky start.

Despite the many, many hours I had spent soothing other people’s crying children, I still felt helpless and hopeless when my own baby screamed.

Despite my “magic hands” that could get most any baby to sleep at work, somehow I could not do the same for my own baby.

I felt defeated. Being a mum was meant to be my life’s purpose, the thing I was going to be a natural at.

It had seemed like it was going to be the happiest time of my life – and it was, but it was also the most difficult thing I’d ever done, and it was those negative emotions that clouded the happy ones, despite the fact that my heart was more full with love than it had ever been before.

While in my case, it turns out I was/am suffering from some postnatal depression and anxiety, I know that much of my own experience mirrors that of any other mother – mental health issues or not.

I cannot tell you how many times I sat in tears, and sobbed to my fiancé “I’m not supposed to find this so hard! It’s not meant to be this difficult”.

But, in time, I came to realise: Maybe that was the point – Nothing worth having ever comes easily. Raising a human to become a part of this world is worth more than anything that can be put into words, so of course, why would it be easy?

Once I came to that realization, and let go of the idea of motherhood perfection that I had created in my mind, slowly things started to get better.

They’re not easy now, and they never will be.

But now I understand why, and therefore, things are marginally better.

I understand that those dark moments of despair are normal, and part of a wider journey. That those moments of feeling like a complete and utter failure are also moments of growth.

That all those nights of sleeplessness, silently crying at 4am whilst rocking backwards and forwards in a seemingly never-ending effort to get your baby through to the achingly yearned-for world of sleep, they are a normal part of motherhood. And that motherhood is far from easy.

The golden moments though, they are what make motherhood the most amazing role in the world. Even when it’s also the hardest.

When your baby – who was only moments before screaming their head off for a solid 45 minutes as you paced around the house, arms aching from bouncing and shhing them in a tiring effort to soothe them – now quiet on your lap, looks up into your eyes and smiles, your insides melting in an instant.

When your baby laughs for the first time, and your own eyes are the ones shining in wonder at the world.

When they decide peek-a-boo is their new favourite game and their giggles have you in stitches too.

When they hit a new milestone and are so proud of themselves, and you of them.

When they reach out to you for a cuddle and your heart fills with warmth.

When they’re asleep in your arms, looking as peaceful and innocent as ever and you wonder how you could have brought something so wonderful into this world.

Those are the moments that make motherhood what it truly is: Hard as nails, but endlessly rewarding.