Motherhood.
15 minutes of pushing and here it is! Motherhood. Or for some it’s that blissful 9 months of carrying your baby. I love being a mom but it didn’t happen over night or over 9 months.
My expectation of motherhood is that I would just know. I would be able to sleep train my baby with nerves of steel because of course, I worked with children. I would be able to snuggle the sickness out of my child because I’m her mother, aren’t my snuggles magical?
But there I laid after 15 minutes of pushing with my newborn on my chest blissfully unaware that this intense feeling of worry and anxiety would last. Did mothering instincts come in like your milk? Would I wake up the next day and have engorged mothering instincts? Expectations are a bitch. I had no idea I would worry about everything. Motherhood is the ultimate Instagram slide of expectation vs. reality.
The incredibly high expectations I had for motherhood, I put on myself. What I realized over time is that there is no manual for motherhood. My type a creative self would just have to figure it out on my own. To this day, I still have no idea what I’m doing, but this I know, my expectation for myself as a mother begins and ends with one thing: love my daughter fully, unconditionally, and endlessly, and that I can do.
By
Mom & Digital Creator