The Loneliness of Motherhood

One thing I never expected was the loneliness of motherhood. It’s somewhere in the picking up of the playroom for the fourth time that day, or maybe it’s when you’ve finished folding the sixth load of laundry and you look at the stacks and wonder how they’ll all get put away, or possibly it’s when they get to spend the night at Grandma’s and you’re so excited, jumping-for-joy because you’ll finally have some alone time but instead you walk into each of their rooms to turn on their night-lights and sound machines and close their doors only until they’re just open a crack because you need to feel like they’re still there with you.

I remember sitting in my college dorm room knowing full well I was ready to just have a career and a husband and babies, and not understanding why I had to wait-it-out or follow protocol before all of these things happened for me. Throughout those glorious four years, I had a hallway filled with people and friends all across campus and I could choose to be connected to my high school friends or family members via social networking, email, or my cell phone, yet I still felt very lonely. I was constantly itching to just move on to the next chapter where, certainly, I’d feel more complete, less alone. I just knew it was going to be full of more meaning and more joyous moments with my husband and, eventually, a family of my own. I would never be lonely, again!

Damn it, was I ever wrong. If I could go back to that time… I would quiet the unrest I was going through by saying, enjoy the relatively orderly, pleasant-smelling, and controlled excitement of a house full of women; the opposite will be true, in no time. Enjoy those long walks across campus and spontaneous visits to coffee shops and after class workouts at the gym. Don’t miss out on those random nights of chicken salad salads and diet Cokes while half-watching the Bachelor so you could chat non-stop with the girls. Don’t waste any of your precious time wishing for the future and thinking you’re lonely, lest you’re ready to give-up your freedom. Because loneliness will take on a whole new meaning in the next chapter of your life.

So, I have a confession: being a new mom is so lonely. Those days and weeks and months after your baby is born feel like a “You’re stranded on an island, what two items do you take?” scenario. At times, the all-consuming, dark reality of caring only for your baby who relies on you nearly 100% for everything is overwhelming. If you’re fortunate to have a partner like mine who wanted to help and who does their best to help on an ongoing basis, then you better be accepting of that help, sister. Though, societally, it truly all comes down to you. Will your baby bond with you? Will he latch? Will you be able to feed him? Is he self-soothing ‘by now’? Do you have him sleep-trained? Are you rocking him too much? What do you mean you can’t put him down? Why haven’t you showered? Are you making time to heal yourself? What are your plans to lose the baby-weight?

If I used just one word to describe my postpartum self it’d probably be jittery. I was worried about everything concerning my baby and hardly accepting help from anyone. I was also counting the days until I had to return to whichever job I was working, at the time. I was anxious to waste away any precious time with my new baby, but I was also anxious to get back to a routine or to something that gave my days more meaning. Waking on the baby’s schedule, changing, feeding, cleaning, and cooing with my baby over-and-over-and-over again until we called-it-a-day was mentally challenging for me. The isolation too maddening, at times. I enjoy setting and accomplishing goals and the mundane routine without the milestones was not fulfilling for me. Did I look at my role as a new mom correctly? Probably not. Is there a right way to do the new mom thing? Probably (most definitely, usually) not.

I have more to confess…. Being a momma with a small crowd of littles running all-around and all-over you is just as lonely as those new-mom days. No matter how loud it is, messy it is, or chaotic it is, you’re lonely. No matter how proud or grateful you are for your partner to be financially supporting your family, you wish for him to flex his work-life-balance as much as you have to and get his ass home to help with these hooligans he bestowed upon you. You wish for those wild kiddos to go to bed ASAP only to finally sit down for the first time that day, scroll through pictures of them on your phone, and weep quietly at how lonely you are without them.

Their needs are all-consuming. I long to sit and journal or talk with other adults about deeper issues I care about, only to wonder what it is I actually care about? Do I care about what fruit snacks are dye-free, sugar-free? Do I have a political stance? Am I interested in advocating for pay-gaps? Should I join the school PTO?

Being a momma who’s chosen to have a career is also so, so lonely. It feels as though everyone thinks you’ll fail – moms with little ones will never ‘be present’ in any one place; moms of littles will forget everything, we can’t count on them; moms of littles are too needed at home to get the same amount of work done as their non-mom counterparts. How will they take a professional conference call? How can they work remotely and facilitate hybrid learning during a pandemic simultaneously? Let me just tell you, motherhood may come with lonely moments but the sheer will of a mother is unmistakable. I’d hire a multi-tasking momma over anyone, any day.

In a lot of ways, I feel like it’s all riding on me: prepare breakfast and pack their lunches and backpacks, make sure hats and gloves are collected and inside winter jackets, set aside face masks, get kids on school buses or dropped off at school, meet those deadlines at the office, host company trainings or meetings, send out calendar reminders or meeting follow-up, preheat the oven for dinner, fix the holes and get the stains out of every pair of pants, sing them lullabies and tuck them in tightly, and then wake up and do it all, again. A small ah-ha in writing these words: Maybe the loneliness comes from the lack of “thanks”? Perhaps a thankless job begets loneliness…

From 2013 until the end of 2019 I was either pregnant or postpartum. For six years, my body was simply a vessel and I was never, ever alone. So here I am, ready for another new chapter in this life without diapers or pacifiers or sippy cups and I keep wondering how I shall fill my time with things that matter to me? What matters to me? What is my purpose, now? And, these can be very lonely thoughts. Because, it takes a lot of reflection. It takes me making the time to sit and wrestle with my inner thoughts. In some ways, motherhood has allowed me to avoid answering my deepest thoughts or respond to my own feelings. Perhaps avoidance begets loneliness?

And, I cannot forget the loneliest part of all motherhood: When you become a mother, you miss partner, most. In the beginning when you were planning your family goals together, you felt closer than you ever had, before! Together you were embarking on an intimate, unique journey just between the two of you. And after the little ones arrive, then all of a suffer the days, weeks, months may pass by without an intimate conversation or a warm hug. (And, if those things aren’t happening, you can probably forget about anything beyond that). Caring for these little lives is all consuming for both of you. And if you’re both working, then by the time you get them to bed, all you can do is get yourself to bed, too. Then, wake up at 5:00 a.m. to start again.

I have been raising an army of little boys so let’s just say physical loneliness is a non-issue. I just ran into an elderly woman at a few different points of the grocery store while my boys were all but hanging off the shopping cart. “Wow, you’ve got a lot of ‘em.” Should I have responded, Thank you? I just said ‘That’s true’ with a smile and turned my cart the other way.

Maybe it’s been how I’ve viewed loneliness to be the issue, all along. I’ll admit that I do recognize my love language to be quality time. I think that’s why I have found myself lonely in so many crowded circumstances. Unrequited friendships leave me feeling empty. Those things are empty. And at many, many points of motherhood, the care and love you give your babies is unrequited. From here on out, my mothering will be measured in quality moments spent with the people who should mean the most to me: my husband, my boys, and myself. Quality time shall beget happiness. But, quality is going to have to take on a new meaning, for me. As a recovering perfectionist with three wild little boys and a job that I now flex all around their little lives, I am going to have to let-go of all expectations and find solace in the freedom that I can – and I will – be myself in the midst of being a mom, and I can find joy, accomplishment, and comfort in the day-to-day. That just may be my life’s purpose. And a challenge, nonetheless.