I never knew.

No one ever tells you what motherhood is really like. I think the closest I came to an honest description of it before I had kids was from my sisters-in-law, when they described the completely overwhelmed feeling of new-motherhood, the everlasting tears (both yours and the baby's), the extreme exhaustion. But that really only covered the first six weeks for me. Nicholas was a normal newborn and I spent many sleepless nights trying to comfort his wee self, but I was somehow always buoyed up knowing that my capable sisters-in-law had also felt entirely lost in this weird new life. After six weeks, we finally discovered that Nicholas' real problem was that he simply needed to sleep on his belly. Once we found that out, he's been our best sleeper ever since.

I then entered what I call a honeymoon phase in which my baby was sleeping through the night, we'd finally gotten the nursing down to a science, and I felt the vague stirrings of my old self starting to return. I can do this, I thought. I will be me again and I have the most content baby ever so I couldn't really ask for more. This phase lasted until my darling baby learned to crawl at around five-six months. Even then, it was still somewhat manageable, although I tired pretty quickly of hopping up and down every five seconds to pull him out of some forbidden place.

But then, something happened. Suddenly, he could walk. And not only that, but there was another baby on the way. When Jacob arrived, I was dealing with the sleepless nights and was pulling an extremely active toddler out of the cupboards all day long. No one told me how hard it was going to be. I remember having to close myself in a child-proofed bedroom, with both boys and a few little toys so I could nurse Jacob without having to worry about what Nicholas was getting into. I was changing two sets of diapers and literally felt like a diaper machine. It was all I did. Changed bums and kept babies out of harm's way. I thought children were supposed to be a blessing...

As they grew older, it only seemed to get worse. Tantrums, food battles, bickering. Dealing with all of this and being pregnant yet again with my third. I felt utterly, completely out of my element. Sometimes I just felt so confused and panicky. Who am I and how did I get here? What's my name again?  I'm still not completely sure how I survived those days.

Don't get me wrong, though. Through all of the angst (or whatever you want to call it) that I was feeling, there were moments of joy. Little arms giving big hugs. Sweet voices saying, "I love you." Bits of maturity cropping up here and there in their personalities, giving me a glimpse of what they might be like as adults.


As my kids have gotten older, it has gotten much easier. They're becoming more independent and now that I'm able to have actual conversations with them, I see light at the end of the tunnel. With time and experience, I have gained more wisdom and confidence on this ever-changing journey.


I never knew motherhood could be so completely overwhelming. Or how ill worry could make a person. Or that it would sometimes feel like they are holding your heart in their grubby little hands and every once in a while, they crush it. Sometimes it even feels like they are your heart, pulsing on the outside of you. My kids are the very air I breathe, and I would be lost without them.

I wasn't prepared for the mess of motherhood, but neither was I prepared for feeling the fierce love I have for my kids. No one ever told me that either.