whirl·wind
/ˈ(h)wərlˌwind/
noun.
a. a column of air moving rapidly around and around in a cylindrical or funnel shape.
b. used in similes and metaphors to describe a very energetic or tumultuous person or process.
There’s this song that I added to my Spotify favourites this year entitled “Whirlwind” by Sam Ryder, and while it’s all about falling in love, the opening lyrics say:
Whirlwinds are simple to enter
But once you’re sucked in
They’re hard to leave
That seems like a fitting description of my year as a mom – sucked into newborn life for the second time, while simultaneously raising a toddler – and I don’t mean that in a bad way, at all.
The song continues on to describe this beautiful idea of being swept off your feet, riding the breeze and going wherever the wind takes you.
And as a parent, there’s often not enough planning in the world to prepare you for the everyday surprises that come with raising two (or more) tiny humans. So you ride the waves, taking things as they come and doing the best you can to stay focused on the beautiful parts of the journey.
I wrote here about the arrival of our newest family member, and then the whirlwind of motherhood sucked me into radio silence.
I may not have put pen to paper so-to-speak, but I have filed away many moments of reflection with one clear theme: redemption.
My newborn experience with Micah was the complete opposite of what it was with Madilynn. My unmedicated birth was empowering, our breastfeeding journey went off without a hitch, and sleep seemed like a non-issue. Postpartum anxiety was nearly nonexistent this time around, and our partnership as parents found a beautiful balance.
Was it because we had more experience under our belts? Was it because our expectations of baby life were more realistic? Was it because this baby had a more laidback personality? Was it a combination of it all? My instinct says the latter.
As with any big life change, there was a transition period and many hiccups along the way.
Have I loved every moment? No.
Have I handled every situation perfectly? Absolutely not.
Have I felt suffocated by motherhood? Yes.
Am I exhausted by default parenthood? Most definitely.
But when I reflect on the year as a whole, I feel an overwhelming sense of pride.
Madilynn has grown and developed into an incredible little person with her own thoughts, feelings and opinions. Micah has transformed from a squishy little newborn into a happy-go-lucky little boy who loves to make mama’s heart skip a beat with his daring antics. And as for me? I’ve blossomed into a new level of motherhood where there’s more confidence (and more exhaustion – IYKYK) than ever before.
Reflection often comes with realization, though. And having a more positive experience the second time around has brought a nagging sense of guilt (or possibly grief?) for everything I failed to enjoy the first time around.
I documented life with Madilynn excessively, and I am so glad I did because when I look back at old photos / videos of her, I simply don’t remember it.
There were so many obstacles to overcome in that first year, and much of it was out of my control.
It took me a solid 6 months of motherhood to feel like I was coming out of the clouds – like the postpartum anxiety was fading and I could have some confidence in myself again. And right then, a global pandemic hit, and that momentary sense of relief was quickly dissipated by an even greater cloud of anxiety.
There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to see apart from my baby and my husband. Every day. All day. For months.
And if that wasn’t enough in my first year of motherhood… The mental strain of it all caused separation in our marriage.
The entire year felt like one painful blow after another, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever make it out the other side.
But how silly is it that I (and many other moms, for that matter) should feel guilty for simply surviving? Like we aren’t out here every day doing the best we can with what we have. Why do we tell ourselves that it’s never enough? That we’ll never be as organized, as enthusiastic, as creative, as put-together as some Jane Doe we see on our social media feeds?
I’m sitting here today, looking back at the past three or four years, realizing that I am so much stronger than I ever imagined myself to be. And I am incredibly proud of myself for handling everything that has been thrown at me.
As a mom of two, I have balanced the needs of a newborn and the emotions of a toddler. I have successfully potty trained, preschool planned, and emotionally supported my daughter. I have spent countless hours nursing, snuggling and playing with my son, I have transitioned my family from one home to another. And I have done it all while working through my own insecurities and bouts of anxiety.
Motherhood is messy and beautiful. It’s unpredictable and magical. It’s filled with incredible highs and incredible lows. It’s everything you ever hoped, and more than you ever dreamed.
Some days, you might feel like you’ve walked through a battlefield and you’re barely hanging on. Other days, you’ll marvel at the amount of things you’ve accomplished and the incredible privilege you have of raising such beautiful little people.
My point is – whether you’re walking through a hard season of motherhood, or a triumphant one, or some strange mixture of both (me!), I hope you can remind yourself of how far you’ve come. And tuck away all those happy moments that remind you why there’s no greater parent for your child than you! ♥