motherhood

What Kind of Mother Will I Be? // WV Boudoir Photographer

DISCLAIMER I am not pregnant, but we hope to have children in the next few years, which has me thinking about motherhood more. I’m realizing that who I am today is who I’ll be as a mother. These are just thoughts on that.


What kind of mother does a woman like me become?

I have to assume that my inner workings and most notable traits won’t change all that much after I become a mother.

I will still be unpredictable, a little too quick to anger, also a little too quick to giggle, day dreamy and sensitive.

I will probably also still be stubborn and mean sometimes, and strong and passionate most of the times.

I will still want to wear interesting clothes and earrings.

I will also still be falling in love with every person I meet. (Will my children like or dislike this about me?)

I am probably going to slow down my driving a little and pay more attention to the food I eat and the risks I take.

But I’m probably not going to change the way I procrastinate and make excuses.

I will still be a good cook and a lazy reader.

I will still be a control freak to some, amenable to others.

I will still love the spotlight.

I will still sing, and think I’m better at it than I am.

I will still be fascinated with sex and intimacy, and my kids will probably hate that.

I hope that I will take my children’s criticism with a grain of salt, but also not dismiss their queries.

I hope that they like some of these things some day, even if it’s after I’m gone.

I hope that they inherit one or two of the good things.

I hope that they can laugh with their father about some of the bad things.

I might be a little too strict sometimes, a little too lenient others.

I might love a little too hard, pushing them away without meaning to.

I might worry too much.

I might want to hug them too much.

I might try to protect them when I should be letting them experience life.

I might be selfish.

I might teach them their first curse word.

I might inspire them.

I might also annoy them.

I might not give them what they need when they need it every time.

I don’t know what kind of mother a woman like me makes, and I won’t until the day comes.

I can only hope that this missing pieced puzzle of traits adds up to a whole and able mother for the human beings we raise.




Even My Gorgeous, Wonderful Husband Doesn't Get It // WV Boudoir Photographer

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Last night, Ricky and I started watching a show called “Workin’ Moms.” It’s a delightfully honest sitcom about, you guessed it, mothers who work. It’s a goddamn work of art, actually. I’ve seen only two episodes, and during both of them I have laughed out loud many times and cried at least once per episode. It goes deep in a way that most pieces of film are afraid to. Deep in a way that, apparently, only women will understand.


One of the mothers in the show is struggling to produce enough milk via breastfeeding. At the end of an episode, after a long, difficult day of “having it all” (read: working in an office full of men and getting mocked and dismissed for being a MOTHER), her baby fights feeding, but does eventually give in and latches. Her entire body relaxes as she lets out whimpering versions of “thank god.”


The credits rolled, along with the tears down my face. I looked over at my progressive, amazing, understanding husband and said, “do you see? Do you see how much more we have to deal with? Do you see how much harder women have to work just to live a life?” And I was met with a blank stare. Nothing. No words. No emotion. He just stared at me.


To his credit, we were watching a sitcom on Netflix when his wife turned around with a face full of tears, asking him to explain himself and the patriarchy. Maybe he was just stunned. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t even all that surprised. Women have been alone in this fight forever.

I guess deep down, I’ve known that he doesn’t get it, or I wouldn’t have asked those hypothetical questions of him. We are approaching the years in which we’ll grow our family, and it brings a lot of questions to the surface. Problems that are easy to delay solving now, but won’t be for much longer.


These questions are easy to ignore because my husband IS one of the good ones. He does basically all of our dishes. He does laundry, including my Thinx. He takes care of the cats, the bills, yard, the cars. He understands what emotional labor is, and often verbally acknowledges how much of it he sees me doing. He doesn’t talk over me. He doesn’t talk down to me. As men go, he’s pretty great.

So I forget sometimes, that although he IS incredible, he’s still not a woman.


He still doesn’t understand why I prefer to take the elevator in a parking garage.


He doesn’t know that in the winter, I ran home from my job that was 30 yards away, door to door, in the evenings.


He doesn’t understand how terrifying it is to have an irregular period as a 32 year old woman who wants children.

He doesn’t understand why I’m in such a damn hurry to buy a house.


He doesn’t see other men not making eye contact with me in a group conversation.


He doesn’t know why I hate it when he says he hasn’t noticed the several pounds I’ve put on.


He doesn’t understand why it’s such a goddamn relief that I’ve decided not to breastfeed.


He doesn’t mind, but doesn’t know the power I’ve found in keeping my last name for now.


He doesn’t feel the weight of the government using women’s bodies as pawns in a power game.

He doesn’t, and won’t truly understand any of this. Because he can’t. We can have all of the conversations in the world. He can see me screaming, crying, heartbroken, livid, but he’ll never really know any of it.

I can tell him and teach him how to support women, but the fact is, this will always be a space between my husband and me. This will be something we never have in common.

Computer science

Transformers

Musicals

Understanding life as a woman.