What they don’t Tell You About Having a Baby

            No one tells you the raw truth about what it’s going to be like after you have a baby. Perhaps it’s because our brains are pretty good at protecting us from emotional pain that we forget how damn hard it is to bring a child into this world! Experiences get stored away in our memory bank, and if they are “put away” adaptively, the positive aspects of the experience become more salient and the negative or painful parts become fuzzy and less accessible. When we look back on the experiences of raising our children, we most likely recall the joy and celebration that accompanied bringing life from inside to outside of us, permanently separated from our being, and conveniently forget the long days and the agonizingly longer nights.

          Fellow mamas forget, or perhaps purposely neglect, to mention the physical and emotional pain that accompanies the postpartum period. No one tells you, or at least fails to go into depth, about the sense of loss you can feel to suddenly no longer experience the familiar kicks and the comfort that comes with a big old round belly. When you’re left with a squishy, unfamiliar body and an intense anxiety about almost everything (I mean, hello, I have to keep this little human alive now by more than just feeding myself!), the loneliness, loss, and feeling lost starts to set in.

          No one tells you about the 3am feedings when you are the only one awake in the house with baby and the quiet and darkness creeps in. They don’t prepare you for feeling so alone, despite the fact that another being is right there with you. They don’t tell you that you might not feel that “amazing connection” as you hold the human you made so close that your skins sticks to theirs and you can smell the soft scent of newness filling your nostrils with every breath. These sensory experiences only serve as a constant reminder of this emotional ache.

          Mamas don’t often share the sense of loss they might feel when thinking about life before baby; the sense of freedom that was so quickly yanked away with that last push. Seemingly happy couples don’t tell you about the daily arguments, the palpable tension, or the wedge driven between them by adding another member to the fold. We see pretty pictures posted on Facebook and Instagram. We read the cute and funny stories of what little peanut did today. We google everything until our mind is racing in seven different directions and we are convinced that baby and or mama might be dying. But no one mentions all that in the light of day. If we’re lucky, we have someone who asks how we are doing, and not just out of courtesy (because that’s what we do here in Minnesota) but because they want the honest truth. Someone who pauses and silently allows mama to fill the space with how she really is; an opportunity to connect in community and discover that we are not alone in all this.

          Childbearing is hard. I mean, really hard. Sharing our stories and connecting with others over the loss, the grief, the loneliness, the fears, the heartache…those feelings are one of the hardest parts. We used to raise our children in community. Now we exist in silos, which only serve to contribute to the darkness we may feel. Breaking the silence, being honest with yourself and others, seeking help when needed, and most importantly, acknowledging the “yuck” is essential in this journey called motherhood. Being a mother is an amazing gift, but it doesn’t come without its thorns. We all become aware of that when we start on our journey into motherhood, we just need to share in that with others, and tell our stories, in order to move through it and be well in the end.

Lauren Robbins, MS, LPCC, LADC

Owner & Therapist