People often forget to tell you that childbirth isn’t the end of the war on your pride. Here are just a few of the ways motherhood has robbed me of my dignity since childbirth.
- My hospital stay. That’s right. It starts immediately. I naïvely thought once the baby was out I’d be able to put my lady parts away and go back to being dignified. Ha. Immediately after my daughter was born I was encouraged required to get up and move around while wearing a hospital robe that doesn’t close in the back and bleeding from my southern hemisphere like a plane crash victim. And that’s not the only region I had on display. Since I wanted to breastfeed, a stranger came into my room every two hours to manhandle both my infant and me. I might as well not have bothered wearing clothes.
- The time I read something on the Internet. The Internet has a LOT of opinions about how to parent. As a new parent still trying to figure out my groove, I often ran into opinions that conflicted with what felt right to me. It took me a while to figure out that just because something was right for someone else’s child didn’t mean it was right for mine, and just because I did something different than someone else didn’t mean I was wrong.
- The time I lost my child. It happens to everyone and it’s horrible. It may be in your house when the baby rolls under the coffee table when you aren’t looking. It may be in Walmart or at the waterpark. If you are like me you will inevitably panic and probably begin speaking frantically in a high-pitched scream voice. Most likely, also like me, all will turn out fine, your child will reappear, and you’ll be hit with a tidal wave of shame for misplacing your small human as well as for all of your behavior during the course of the incident.
- The time my child barfed/pooped/peed (outside of a diaper) or otherwise created a ridiculous mess in public. Potty training was a nightmare. I was so excited to get started. Until I ended up stranded on the far side of Walmart with a cart full of groceries and a toddler who had to pee RIGHT NOW. Poop, pee, barf—you name it and we’ve had it. In public. Most recently my toddler launched a glass jar of jelly out of the cart in the grocery store. The worst part? I couldn’t run and hide in shame because my five year old was watching. So I had to be a decent human being and hunt down an employee to set a good example.
- The time I unintentionally hurt my child. It’s no fun, but it’s inevitable. I’ve accidently tripped my toddler. Bumped her head on the doorway. Thrown the rubber ball a little too hard. Lost my grip on her as she climbed out of my lap. Pinched her cute little legs in the car seat buckle. It’s hard enough to see your child sad. It’s worse to know you caused it.
- When my firstborn started speaking. She repeated everything like an incredibly articulate parrot. Including the F word. And then she advanced to expressing her own opinions and observations, which included everything from what color mommy’s underwear were to giving everyone in the public restroom a play-by-play of my bathroom habits to loudly speculating about the gender of people she passed on the street.
- The time I didn’t stand up for my child. To some people, standing up to others comes naturally. I’m not one of those people. So when it came time to start advocating for this tiny human, whether it be at daycare or with other children or parents, I choked. More than once. Eventually I got the hang of it, but it took some practice.
- When I realized that any control I had over my child was an illusion. The examples of this are too numerous to count. When my child refused to eat. When she refused to apologize. When she refused to sleep. When she changed her Christmas list on Christmas Eve. When she told everyone I was pregnant two days after I found out I was pregnant (before I had even told her). From the minute children are born they begin striving for independence. But throughout that journey it is up to us to stand beside them and take responsibility for them until they are able to take responsibility for themselves. The transition from taking responsibility for their actions to letting them be independent is tricky, and inevitably involves a little ego bruising.
But in the end, it’s all worth it. Because hidden in each shot to my ego is an opportunity for me to grow into a better mother and a better human. My children may regularly steal my dignity, but what they give me in return in so much better.
Such a great post. I would consider submitting this somewhere!
Thank you! 🙂