Like a Mother

Redefining Motherhood

Motherhood

Choosing My Motherhood

I remember sitting with my friends for our first girls’ weekend about eight months after my oldest son was born with all of his challenges. It was the first time since his stay in the neonatal intensive care nursery that I had been away from him overnight, and I was relieved and grateful for the getaway.
 
Over the previous months, I’d heard the platitudes over and over… I don’t know how you do it… You’re so strong… You’re an inspiration. I didn’t believe any of them, but I politely said, thank you.
 
But that weekend I heard those things from my three best friends, and the words stung. I replied back, “What other choice do I have? It’s not like I can walk away!”
 
“Yes, you could,” one friend replied, “but you don’t.”

Was that true? Did I really have a choice?

About a year after my son was born, I made another choice, or rather presented that choice to my husband for him to decide. We would stop, and our son would be an only child, or we would have two more children. Because of my life as an only child with a mother who had her own medical needs, it became very important to me that our second child have an ally when things got tough as I knew they inevitably would.
 
Fast forward, and now I’m the mom of three. A choice I made with them in mind, without taking my own wants and needs into account. Not realizing that at the end of the day, I was choosing a life I wasn’t sure I actually wanted.
 
Motherhood is hard for me. I don’t love it. I absolutely love these three humans I helped create, but each day it’s a choice I make to step into the role of being a mother, to take on that title, and to do that job.

Each day I choose not to walk away.

Self-care is a hot topic in the mom community and especially the special needs mom community, many talking about not having the time or ability for self-care, or lamenting that a pedicure isn’t going to make their life better.
 
And I agree, to a degree. Self-care is more than a pedicure. Truly caring for yourself is an individual act of kindness and gratitude to yourself, and it may require you to do things you’ve never done before, or that others might look down on.

For me, self-care looks like this:

Self-care is admitting that motherhood is hard for me, and accepting that it is okay for me to not like being a mom despite society telling me otherwise.
 
Self-care is working and paying for childcare because being the default parent 24/7 is detrimental to my mental health.
 
Self-care is flying in my mother-in-law up to help with my kids so I can travel to a conference in California and learn and laugh with women who get me and my struggle.
 
Self-care is making time to fill my cup and realizing it was emptier than I thought and that I might need to fill it more often.
 
Self-care is recognizing that it’s not too late to do the things that I dreamed of doing, and that my children seeing me take steps towards those dreams is not selfish, but a life-lesson.
  
Somewhere over the years the definition of motherhood became synonymous with martyrdom and selfless became the opposite of selfish. I’m not buying into either. Yes, there’s a level of sacrifice that comes with being a mother, but we don’t have to lose ourselves completely. I tell my daughter that she can do anything if she takes action and does the work, why can’t the same be true for me? And why does society think it’s wrong if I give myself the same encouragement that I give her? It’s not.

I’m doubling down on and.

I can be a good mother and not love motherhood.

I can be a good mother and work towards my dreams.

I can be a good mother and live a fulfilled life outside of motherhood.

I can be a mother without being a martyr.
I can be both selfless and selfish.
I can be my own version of motherhood.

Celebrating My Work Anniversary

I just celebrated my 12th anniversary at my job. Twelve-years! It really is an accomplishment, isn’t it? How many people do you know who have been in the same job for twelve years?

This job was the one I always thought I wanted. It took me almost a year to even be considered for it, and then another eight-and-a-half months for me to get the offer. And when that day finally came, I was so excited. This was it! I was going to have everything I dreamed of having!

Quickly though I learned that the reality of my dream job was far from the picture I had in my head. Even though I had read about the job, talked to others in the position, and felt like I did my research about my future employer, things did not go as planned.

The first day on the job was crazy! For starters, I was asked to start four weeks earlier than I had anticipated. At first I didn’t mind, because I was really excited, but that first day was nothing like I had expected it to be. Nothing went according to the plan I had made, and when that day was over, I was left in a haze wondering what I had missed in the job description. I found out my first month would be spent at an on-site location, something I definitely had not planned to do. Friends were calling and asking about my new job, and I had no idea what to tell them. I think I was a little in shock about how different it was from how I thought it would be.

The next few months brought on more challenges. Off-site appointments I had not anticipated. Team members who regularly came in to work with my new boss, and to teach me how to work with him. It was really stressful, but I knew I couldn’t quit! This was the job I always wanted after all. I knew I had to do my best.

But after about six months, I recognized I needed help. I was working so hard, staying up late doing additional research, still attending many extra appointments and continuing to work with experts in the field to get additional training. I finally asked one of those experts about support for people in my role. Thankfully there was a group of others in my job with similar experiences that I was able to connect with. They helped me realize that even though my job was different, I was still doing really well at it, and they taught me new ways to handle the day to day. Without their support, I might have quit, but I stuck it out.

A few years into the job I got another boss. Now I had to report to two people! This second boss was more typical, although still demanding. At first working with her seemed a lot easier, but as the years went on, I found that while the challenges of working with her were completely different from working with my first boss, she still could make my life difficult when she wanted to.

And then almost five years ago, I got a third boss. Yep. I report to three different people right now. Some days it makes me wonder what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to do this, but other days I realize my third boss is kind of my favorite. (I know, you aren’t supposed to say that in the workplace, but it’s true.)

Are there days I think about looking for a new job? Yep. I do. I love my bosses, but this is the most demanding job I have ever done! Before this, the longest I held a job was four years. And that job gave me four weeks of paid vacation! This job… um, there’s no paid time off. I did start taking a little more time off recently, and that has helped me stay focused on my role in the company when I get back to work. Sometimes it’s good to step away to gain some perspective and remember why you love your job.

Yes, twelve years ago, I got the job. My title? Mom. Sometimes also referred to as Mama, Mommy, Mother or Mum. And in my case, I got the extra title of Special Needs Mom to my first boss, my son with a rare chromosome six deletion who has multiple physical and intellectual disabilities. This job hasn’t been anything like I expected, and I don’t always love it. But my bosses are pretty cool, and I love them with all my heart, so I will keep showing up.

Cocktails, Closets, and a No BS Mom Talk Podcast

You know that feeling when you make a new friend and you just click? That’s how I felt when I met Liz Small of Small Steps. We connected through my favorite networking group, bizzy mamas. I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but as we got to know each other more and more, we knew we destined to do great things together.

And by “great things” I mean drinking and cracking ourselves up in my closet.

Liz and I decided over drinks that we should start a podcast. I know NOTHING about podcasting, but I did know broadcasting back in the day, and that counts for something, right?

I also like to hear myself talk, which is helpful when recording a podcast.

So, we met for more drinks and discussed this new adventure, and we came up with the name Liz and Lynne on the Rocks. Why? Because life as a mom is rocky, and we enjoy a good cocktail, that’s why!

Our podcast launched a couple weeks ago and the feedback has been amazing! We are also bringing you a visual by going live on Facebook on Fridays around Noon for Cocktails in the Closet, which is where we chat about the week, talk about the show we’ll be recording and share our beverage of choice for that day.

Oh… you’re probably wondering why are we in the closet? Well, I only had one semi-good microphone, and the sound quality in other rooms of my house was even worse than what we’re producing in the closet, so we decided to create a makeshift studio in the closet, and then it took on a personality of it’s own. Because who hasn’t hid in the closet with a drink now and then? (It’s all good, we don’t judge, and neither should you.)

So check us out if you’re looking for something entertaining to listen to in the carpool line. New episodes weekly posted on Tuesdays! We’re currently on iTunes, SoundCloud and Spreaker, and hopefully coming to Stitcher and iHeartRadio soon!

Please note that we did earn ourselves an Explicit rating because sometimes we slip with the occasional curse word. We’re human, and we enjoy saying those words when our kids aren’t around, but you might not want to listen to us without headphones if yours are in the car or room.

Our show notes are available on our web page lizandlynne.com, so when we reference something during the podcast, you can get the information there.

Also, check out the amazing work my partner in closet drinking is doing over at Small Steps. She’s pretty awesome!

Finding my badass when I just feel bad (or like an ass)

Not going to lie, the first months of 2017 weren’t my best. I could list the series of unfortunate events that made me feel like a total failure as a mom, wife and friend lately, but why torture myself? Let’s just leave it at the fact that I wasn’t exactly living up to my self-given label of being a badass. I pretty much have just been bad. And on some days, I’ve just been an ass. But badassery was nowhere to be found.

The good news is that I recognized it. Losing my badassness is a sign to me that I’m losing myself, and that my depression and the negative voices in my head are taking over and blocking the joy in my life. And when those negative voices take over, the strong and encouraging ones that keep me at my badass best, fall silent.

When I see the fog of depression lurking and itching to take over my life, I have two choices: I can let it, and sink into that dark and scary place I’ve been to before. Or I can tell it to fuck off and start taking the steps to find my badass self again. The decision isn’t always as simple as it should be. Sinking is easy, moving through the fog is a lot of work.

Thankfully, I made the decision to do the work.

The first step for me is admitting that I’m in the fog… again. The voice in my head likes to remind me what a fuck-up I am for letting myself get here… again. (Like seriously, why didn’t you recognize you were heading in this direction a few months ago when it would have been easier to fix?) But despite that, I admit it, to myself, that I am, in fact, here… again.

Then it’s on to the next step – telling that voice in my head to go fuck itself. I don’t owe you, or anyone, an explanation. Shit happens, and I’m here. Deal with it.

(Just rereading that last paragraph tells me that my inner badass is still in there. Damn I missed her!)

Dealing with it is step three, which means asking for help. And for me this means reaching out to my therapist. That’s right folks, I got to therapy! Right now I go every-other week because that’s what I need to do. Because let’s be honest, telling myself I’ll figure this out on my own is just another lie from the voice in my head. It sounds like a fine idea, and logically I know that if I ate cleaner, exercised more, got outside more, wrote more, meditated more, and spent more time with friends, then yes, I probably could find my way out of the fog. But when I’m in the fog, despite all the logical things I know I should and could do, I don’t do them. Period. That’s why I need my therapist.

But why not just talk to your friends, Lynne?

I have some awesome, amazing, non-judging, totally supportive, kick-ass friends. But sometimes, you need a professional who will listen, won’t judge, but will call you out on your bullshit, and give you a plan for shutting down the negative voices so you can awaken the sleeping badass – because she’s still in there, I promise.

And the good news is that my sleeping badass is finally waking up!

She is still a little groggy from her long nap. (She probably needs more coffee.) But now that she’s back, I’m trying to take better care of her and keep her safe. She’s working on great things!

I hated you when you wished for your child to “just stay little”

I hated you when you wished for your child to “just stay little,” but now I understand.

You’ve said it often, in many different ways. “Why can’t they just stay little?” You would lament as you saw your baby changing into a toddler… a preschooler… a kindergartener.

I swore I’d never use that phrase, because I know that if given the choice, you would not choose a child who didn’t grow up. I know because I have one.

I saw my first son grow slowly and develop even more slowly. Then pause, stop, and repeat, while never making more than subtle and calculated progress towards his milestones. And while we celebrate every single tiny accomplishment he makes, it sucks to see his peers growing-up as he should have knowing that he’s never going to be like them due to his developmental disabilities.

So when my daughter arrived, I cheerfully applauded as she hit those milestones. I celebrated her tenacity and spunk as she reached each new age and stage. I even proclaimed out loud how amazing it was to see her grow and develop and become the adult she would be one day.

And then her younger brother arrived, and I stuck to my oath again. This time I was more cognizant that this was very likely the last time I’d see a baby grow in my arms. I swore to myself again, and added that this time I would take it all in. Breathe in every moment as my last baby grew, and changed, and developed.

And I did, at first. I celebrated as he grew, but noted it all. I took more pictures, and tried hard to document on paper and in my mind all the things I loved about my baby, and then about my toddler, and now about my preschooler. So. Many. Things.

But now his sister is older, approaching tween status. She’s still spunky, but sassier now, with most of that sass directed at me. She doesn’t need me as much. She is strong willed, dramatic and oh-so-stubborn. All traits I remind myself will serve her well someday, but that currently try my patience in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Now instead of seeing the adult she will eventually become, I see the teenager I’ll meet first, and I’m a tiny bit terrified of what’s to come.

Meanwhile my baby boy will start Kindergarten this fall. He still looks at me with nothing but love in his eyes. He still wants hugs, kisses and snuggles and asks for them regularly. At bedtime, he offers me a “really better hug” before he lays down with his monkey and curls into a little ball to go to sleep. I want to pause, stop and repeat. I don’t want this to change.

So I apologize to you for judging. I get it now. I understand what you want to hold on to. It’s not the diapers, or the temper tantrums, or the lack of communication, or the constant attention that I still have to give to my oldest son, who is now 11-years-old but developmentally still at the level of a young preschooler. It’s the moments you know will never happen again as they are happening now. The moments that you will miss as your child grows into their own. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them growing up, or didn’t appreciate the changes that happened along the way, it’s that you know that someday soon the offers of a “really better hug” and unlimited snuggles will go away. And while you will have those memories that you’ve documented into the fibers of your being, you just hope for one more day to observe and take note.

 

Photo credit: Photography by Caitlin Domanico, co-author of Photographing Motherhood.

Roam if you want to… (but don’t if you don’t!)

I just turned 41, and for my 41st birthday, I ran away from home. I checked into a hotel, drank mimosas next to the pool, took a 30 minute shower, ate breakfast in my bed, and never once turned on the TV. It was blissful… for me.

I know there are many women who can’t imagine leaving their kids for two days to go to a hotel. They will tell you that their husband can’t handle it, or that they can’t afford it, or make any number of excuses. For that woman, I say that’s fine. You do you. If you can’t leave, for whatever reason, it’s totally cool. But don’t begrudge me for doing it.

Before having kids, I loved traveling. I loved getting away, exploring new places and meeting new people. I loved sleeping alone. I loved not having a plan and letting the day take me wherever it wanted.

That all changed when I had children, and I’ve spent the last 11 ½ years navigating a life that still feels foreign to me at times. I love my kids. I can’t imagine my life without them. But I love my time without them. I love them more when I have a chance to miss them. I love myself more when I have an opportunity to remember who I was before I was Mom.

Some women were born to be moms. They thrive on the day-to-day. I’m not one of them. And that’s okay. We don’t all have to be the same kind of mom. Really – we don’t!

We live in a society today that finds some strange joy in judging other people’s choices when they don’t line up with our own. It’s crazy! I mean who wants everyone to be exactly like them? And if you’re judging out of jealousy, well I hope you find peace in your choices, and if your choices aren’t bringing you peace, then I hope you’ll consider making another choice so you can.

The happiest kids have happy parents who love them. So do what makes you happy and love your kids. It really is that simple.