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Confession: I’m Not Cut Out for Motherhood

Now it’s time to jump back to my more serious confession that I mentioned previously. I actually wrote this days ago when negativity from lack of sleep was driving me, so I decided to hold off on publishing it until I could have a better perspective. And today I do. But my post isn’t any less true, so here it is.

Confession: I’m not cut out for motherhood.

Being a parent is SO hard. Or maybe I just make it hard. These days I find it almost laughable that being a mother is the one and only thing I knew without a doubt that I wanted to do, and that there was a time where I thought I would be amazing at it.

My ideals rarely line up with my reality though. I feel like I am in a constant war with myself between being the mother that I want to be and the mother that I actually am. I had terribly unrealistic expectations of what being a mother would be like, but I also didn’t at all realize how being a mother would change me, and it hasn’t all been in positive ways. I try to look for the balance, but sometimes it just feels like the negatives are outweighing here.

I love my children. I really do. More than I will love anything or anyone else. But I don’t always like them, and that is a fact with which I find it really hard to cope.

I wish that I were a patient and loving parent. Instead I feel more like a crazy, screaming banshee. Patient and loving are the furthest things from what I feel half the time.

I’m tired of the battles.

I’m tired of seeing myself reflected back to me in my children. It only highlights my inadequacy at the job I am doing.

I do remember a point where I did think I was a great mother, but it was a long time ago, and before I had two children. Having two children broke me, and I’ve been struggling in varying degrees ever since. It is why I am adamant about the fact that do not want, and will not have any more children. I don’t want to see what a third child would do to me as a person.

I hear that as they get older it will get easier. I can only hope, but that only makes me wish away these younger years… Fast forward to a time where we can enjoy each other more. And that is just so damn sad.

[box] I love and hate writing posts like this. Love them because it relieves some of the pressure I feel inside me, and hate them because they always peel away at the carefully constructed mask I like to try and wear.[/box]

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3 Comments

  1. Hey lady… ONE has nearly broken me! And having mine mirror me sometimes sucks a LOT. All we can do is do our best. Each day is new. And each night….well, there’s rum. 🙂
    Hang tough. You’re not alone.
    -Nicole (Amelia’s mom)

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  2. “Having two children broke me, and I’ve been struggling in varying degrees ever since.”

    This is EXACTLY how I felt. Broken. It got exponentially better when Grace was 5. I hope that’s the case for you as well. I’m glad more of us are talking about this than in previous generations! Hopefully new moms will be given a more realistic set of expectations.

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  3. Oh Crystal, I struggle with this same thing. My favorite time is bedtime. Most days I’m just trying to survive until then. I have a screaming baby climbing me and a 5 year old begging to play and I just want to hide, or read, or medicate them. Hugs to you, you can at least make it to make it bedtime.

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