Mothering: The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Done

Of all the things I’ve attempted in life, motherhood has been the hardest.

The two small human beings I call son and daughter have left me weeping on my knees on the bathroom floor more times than I care to admit. In fact, if it were just the older one, my former self may have made it out alive, thinking I was pretty capable in this world. This younger one—the rosy-cheeked angel falling asleep on my pillow after a 2 hour round of “Go-back-to-your-bed”— she’s the one that reminds me I have no idea what I’m doing.

Can I get a witness? Can anyone relate? I need to know, because I’m hiding in the bathroom with my laptop and the girl scout cookies, doubting my competence as a human being.

I used to feel fairly competent. I attended 8 schools in 4 countries before graduating high school. I completed a Masters degree with a fascinating thesis project (in my opinion). I started a nonprofit working hands-on with sex trafficking survivors. At the age of 30 I spoke 3 languages. I could speak publicly with some coherence. And I could hold a decent argument with almost anyone.

So how is it that a 40 pound, sweet, sassy, rosy-cheeked little girl with hair that won’t grow can leave me sputtering frustrated sentences that don’t make sense? She can find my deepest weak spot, my hidden insecurity, my uncertainty, and she can push, push, push… push!… till I not only lose all resolve to be in charge, but I end up hiding in the bathroom binging on cookies!

Now she’s back in her room and yelling out at me from bed intermittently. She has a boo-boo and needs an icepack (she’s 2! You can’t make this stuff up), she wants milk (I never give her milk), she needs me to sing to her (I already did that), she wants the door open a pinch, now she wants the door closed, now she wants the closet door closed. Her big brother is passed out several feet away, not even bothered. This is a normal evening.

How could I write a year-long thesis, or chase huge monkeys out of my house, but 2 hours of stand-off with a small child leaves me quaking in my slippers?

This motherhood thing. It’s the thing that makes or breaks us. It knocks out all the nonsense, the self-importance, the pettiness. I can’t even remember the last time I had a silly argument with a friend. Or the last time I cared what toppings were on my pizza.

And another thing. This mothering a strong-willed child thing. The child who’s so much like me. The stare-you-down-till-you-prove-it child. Mothering my Little Miss is redefining who I am.

Because every day I’m forced to decide over and over what’s important, and what kind of mom I want to be.

The yelling kind or the calm-yet-scary kind.

The reactive kind or the intentional kind.

The pushover or the fight-till-you-die-kind, or the something-in-between-kind. It’s a lot of stinkin’ decisions. And it pushes me to my limit.

I used to think it was India that made mothering hard. Well, I’ve been in a lovely American town for 9 months, and I can tell you that mothering didn’t get easier. The routine, the familiar, the independence and ease of daily life gave me space to plan and make better choices as a mom. It removed the outside stressors for me to focus on doing this better. It prepared me to mother better anywhere I go.

But raising these two incredible little people is still the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

The hardest… and the best. Worth every tear, every panic attack, every sacrifice, every missed opportunity, every expense, every hour spent. I love these two more every single day. And I love the mother they’re forcing me to become.

Thanks Little Man and Little Miss. You truly are God’s greatest gifts to me (besides your daddy).

X’s and O’s forever.