Seriously?

Come on ladies. Let's get real. What is this thing we do where we all try to be perfect and buttoned up and act as if pregnancy and childbirth hasn't blown through our lives like a EF5 tornado (which according to Wikepedia's definition can "rip buildings off their foundations leaving them bare and even deform large skyscrapers")? There is no other time in a woman's life where friendship, honesty and humility are more important; but, what happens instead? We compare percentiles like they were high school boyfriends and keep any truths of motherhood hidden deep in the black holes of our diaper bags.

Before you get pregnant, no one will tell you what pregnancy is like (even if you beg you will probably only get one or two morning sickness stories; but, not how you might get stretchmarks that become red and inflamed and itch like poison ivy). Once you are pregnant, no one will spill guts to you on childbirth and prepare you for the hemorrhoids larger than pumpkins, or the catheter that will make peeing hard for weeks after you've been sent home. Once you have your baby in your arms, no one is willing to admit that they too sometimes curl up in a small ball in bed and cry their eyes out because they haven't bonded with their baby and feel utterly ashamed. Why do we keep these irrational vows of silence?

On Wednesday, I went to my Gymboree class and began babbling to the other Mom's about how Livija hadn't been eating much and how frustrating the week had been. I was surprised when the Mother next to me blew out a sigh of relief and gushed, "Oh thank god! I thought I was the only one!" Just as I was turning to her to offer a friendly smile, another Mother from across the mat yelled out, "Me too!!!!!????" like she had just been saved from a desert island.

Similarly, one of the first groups I attended as a new Mom was full of tired, distressed, and struggling women (who all put on really good fronts, and equally cute designer jeans). One new Mother in particular spent the first two classes in the back corner of the room, bouncing on an exercise ball with her baby because he was so "fussy." After two classes of hardly uttering a word, and being on the verge of tears the entire time, she never returned. The saddest thing about it all? Her baby was absolutely adorable. Sure he fussed; but, no more than the rest of our babies. She just felt so impossibly overwhelmed by his whimpers, and so unwilling to share her emotions, that she preferred to stay locked up in her home than try to connect with the other women in the group. Even sadder? I hardly blame her. The group was so impenetrable that even me, Queen of the Babble, was scared to utter a whisper of despair (and not one of them would ever admit that their cute designer jeans were three sizes bigger than normal, or that their flies were unzippered just to keep them on).

I remember watching an Oprah episode about five years ago where the whole concept of the show was for women to "come out of the closet" and for the first time EVER talk about how HARD being a Mother was. One woman who sat on Oprah's couch admitted that she worried doing the show would ruin her forever. Seriously? Even five years ago women were worried about being blacklisted for admitting that it sucked to have an existence that revolved around crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?! What planet do we live on?

I guess this is the reason behind writing this blog. If I can connect with even one woman who feels like no one will be honest her; perhaps she will find some comfort in my humor and disinterest in seeming perfect. I love my daughter; but, that love doesn't come without tears, second guessing, frustration, and anger. Throughout my pregnancy I was always amused by the women who didn't know what to do with my honesty. They would coil back and smile timidly as I groaned over the aches and pains, and pimple the size of a Rollo lodged in between my shoulder blades.

There is absolutely nothing in the world that will compare with the magical love you feel for your little one. Don't think for a minute, however, that you won't want to throw your husband off of the Zakem Bridge, or wish to be on the airplane from LOST so you won't have to return to your poopy reality. Just remember...it does you very little to tell everyone around you that your infant never cries and sleeps 12 hours straight at 5 days old. If they're Mothers, they will know you are lying anyway. It's easier on the soul to share a good, hard belly laugh over the craziness that is Motherhood and to know that you aren't alone.