I might look like I sit around a lot. I might look like I’m on my phone too much. I might look like I take a lot of naps. As a matter of fact, all those things are true. But what it also true about being a mama is that there is a ton of work that goes unnoticed, unseen, and in some cases, unappreciated. It goes beyond the day-to-day obvious activities of taking care of a baby, changing diapers, interacting, doing naptimes and bedtimes and feeding times and everything else that a parent needs to do with a new baby.
A mama’s hidden work starts in pregnancy.
It’s the carpal tunnel so bad that every action causes pain, numbness or both, right down to holding a fork. It’s the plantar’s fasciitis that causes feet to ache and hurt. It's the hip pain and the back pain and the waddles. It’s the random choking and the jaw pain with every meal. It’s the head-to-toe swelling that leaves the ankles and feet throbbing at the end of the day, even with compression socks, which are impossible to put on with the carpal tunnel and the baby growing bigger by the day. It’s the extreme exhaustion, the mental fatigue, the sleepless nights. It’s the constant need to pee, it’s the constant heart burn. It’s the inability to breathe properly, the snoring, the weight gain, the weakened core, the inability to get comfortable at night, and the inability to bend down. It’s the constant housework and prep work and organizing piles of baby things and nesting. It’s preparing a month’s worth of meals so that nobody has to cook once baby comes, despite the carpal tunnel, the plantar’s fasciits, the swelling, and the pain.
And then the baby comes and the mama’s hidden work changes.
It’s learning how to be a mother, learning how to breastfeed, all while running on no sleep. It’s recovering from the birth process but still being responsible for feeding and nurturing the tiny human that spent 9 months inside. It’s the hormones, the tearfulness, the day sweats, the night sweats, the talking-on-the-phone sweats. It’s practicing effective communication when the hormones take over and nothing feels rational and emotions are running high. It’s being unable to go upstairs more than once in a day. It’s being ravenous because producing breastmilk and healing and running on no sleep takes energy. It’s the midwife appointments and the doula appointments and the lactation consultants and the chiropractor and the pelvic floor physio, and then the pediatrician and then the postnatal recovery team, and every professional that’s there to help baby grow and mama recover.
And then the baby’s here and the baby is growing and the mama’s hidden work continues.
It’s taking care of a baby when dad goes back to work, and saying “no” when he asks if he can help because I know he has to go to work in the morning and he’s been working a real job all day so I feel bad that he don’t get any time off. It's also being annoyed that he asks rather than just getting up and doing it, but trying to keep it in to keep the peace, and questioning whether it’s me (hormones), him, or both of us functioning on little sleep. It’s taking three days to get the laundry done or four tries to complete a task because babies are needy. It’s being so needed at all hours of the day and night by one tiny little human that it is all-consuming. It’s producing milk to feed a human; it’s nursing a baby. It’s the burning nipples and the breast pain and the chapped and dry nipples that just never goes away. It’s the engorgement at night and the constant leaking and the breast milk mess everywhere. It’s pumping and bottle feeding and sterilizing just to do it all over again in two hours. And just because I don’t mention it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt; it always hurts. For four months it has not stopped hurting. It’s the sweating out of every pore because it hurts so badly that I want to scream, but I don’t. It’s also the back pain and the neck pain and the shoulder pain and the headaches and the exhaustion. It’s the 40 extra pounds that are making themselves comfortable and staying a while but wreaking havoc on my joints. It’s the shoes that don't fit anymore and treating ingrown toenails that haven’t gone away yet. It’s trying to stay on top of cleaning the house and making the grocery list, and doing the laundry, and organizing the never-ending pile of baby gadgets that slowly seems to be swallowing us alive. It’s meticulously organizing and re-organizing and un-storing and re-storing the baby things that are useful only for a short amount of time. It’s the photo shoots and sending updates to friends and family, and getting those birth announcements sent out, and taking the baby out for walks, and learning how to keep the baby engaged and entertained.
Oh, and throw in a pandemic.
It’s the pademic fatigue and the mask fatigue and the mask sweats and the fear of taking the baby out to public places. It’s the constant planning for who is leaving the house when and who is going to be taking care of the baby so the other can do errands. It’s the sadness that comes with “I wish I could meet your baby” and “I just want to snuggle him” and “I don’t know when we’ll ever meet him.” It’s the protection and also guilt that comes along with “I’m sorry you can’t come over to meet the baby” and “Maybe once THIS lockdown ends, we can plan something outdoors” and “Grandparents have to wear masks to hold the baby.”
Then there’s all the stuff that’s amazing and makes up for it: the gummy smiles, the endless snuggles, the love that’s so strong it’s inexplicable, watching the tiny human grow and learn new things on a daily basis. That’s the easy part; that work is amazing, but it doesn’t take away from all the hidden work that is so trying and exhausting and sometimes mind-numbing.
So I might take a lot of naps, I might sit around a lot, and I might be on my phone too much. But what you don’t see is all the hidden work I’ve been doing since the baby was conceived; the 24 hour work, the invisible work that isn't so glamourous but is oh-so important.
Happy Mother’s Day Mamas. Only now do I know why that day is so important.
And so it is. XO