I lost it on my daughter. All my anger, I took it out on her. She did nothing wrong, but I simply just lost it. Her eyes swollen with tears, a frown that reached the floor, and a screaming cry that pierced my heart. She looked around like a lost puppy. She didn’t know where to go. That’s when I realized that the thing she was looking for was comfort. But at that moment, her comfort turned into a monster.
Since becoming a mother of 2 under 2, I have been running. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. Everything I want to do, I can’t get done. I can’t meet new people or hang out with friends. Moreover, my thoughts are constantly racing.
Sometimes I wonder how I even have time to breathe.
I always wonder how other mothers do it, how they keep their life together, and make it look so simple. How they manage their family and still have time to get their nails done. How are they are able to make a nice dinner while juggling sports and playdates? I do one of the most horrible things a mother can do to herself, I compare myself to them. I’m barely hanging on by a thread most days and count the seconds until my husband comes home.
I try to keep all my problems that seem trivial at best and tuck them away. Why? Probably because I don’t have time to solve them. House chores, making food, pumping breastmilk, a sick child, paying bills, babysitters, appointments, etc. But every once in awhile, I just combust. I just lose it. My pocket of problems that was once bursting at the seams is now collapsed, and I projected it at my daughter. All because I just can’t be perfect.
She stood standing in front of me, crying uncontrollably. I just felt my body crumble into a million pieces. What did I just do? I fell to my knees and pulled her into my body. As I held her close, I felt her hold me closer. I sobbed, telling her I was so sorry. My most important role in my daughter’s life is being her safe zone, and I never want her to think she can’t come to me for help because she was scared of me.
For a split second, I forgot I was her role model. Everything she sees me do, she imitates. I want her to be strong and smart, someone who includes everyone, and knows right from wrong. As mothers, we always want to do the best for our children, even if that means sacrificing our own mental health. One thing I learned from this moment was being present for my daughter is more important than anything else I need to do. But that hug she gave me, healed even the deepest of scars of mine.
Here’s the tea, mommas. Hug your babies closer tonight, and don’t forget you are their safe zone. You’re doing the best you can.
