• Oh, Motherhood, How You Toy With My Emotions

    040seb7I am a mother of two sweet darlings. They are currently 11 and 9 years old. While I work full time now, I stayed at home with my sweet bébés until my youngest was school age. Parenting is a tough gig. No one tells you that. It’s only been recently that myself & my friends have begun to openly talk about how tough it really, truly is. It can be so very heart wrenching.

    And, then, to be a stay at home parent… wow! It’s indescribable. It’s so very rewarding and fulfilling, but it’s also… life changing. At times, I felt hopeless and depressed. Honestly. And, at times, my heart ached from being so full of love, gratitude, and adoration. How is it possible to feel such very different emotions from one day to the next? Ahhh… parenting.

    I look back at the person that I was during that time… not relative to my babies. (Once you’re a mother, it’s almost impossible to separate yourself from your identity in motherhood, but I think it’s possible.) I don’t recognize that woman. I was a young mother… I know there are a billion other young mothers out there. I know that being a stay at home mom is not a glamorous job. And, so, I wanted to share with you my very real, raw thoughts about the whole thing. I’m willing to bet that stay at home mom or not, any mom ought to be able to relate on some point. These, though, are thoughts I had in the midst of staying home. These are my thoughts from August 26, 2007. Yep… over six years ago.


    This is probably gonna be long and wordy… it probably won’t make sense. It’s just that every now & again, I start thinking about my life, my place in this world. And, when I’m not ruminating on these things, there’s no telling what kind of shallow thoughts enter my mind.

    It’s like, in my day to day, I forget my blessings. It’s not a constant, but I sure can get caught up in something that resembles “woe is me.” For example, here are some of the things that might run through my head on any given day, maybe multiple times a day:

    • I wish I had more money for a billion reasons. For camera gear, laminate floors, fancier clothes, better food, vacations… You know?
    • Why aren’t I thinner? I generally feel pretty good about myself. I know where my self-worth lies, however, I can’t help but wish I looked better. Maybe it’s that I do, in fact, know my worth that keeps me stagnant… who knows really.
    • What a glamorous life. Snotty noses on little beings that can’t bathe themselves or wipe their own bums (that last one’s mostly just Maya out of shear laziness…) Guess who deals with that? Yeah. It’s me.
    • Laundry upon laundry, dishes upon dishes. Crumbs under the table, dust on the furniture… it all calls my name, and I certainly don’t want do deal with it.
    • How bored can I get? Do you realize it’s pretty much same stuff, different day? Seriously. Little changes. I absolutely CANNOT believe that I’m living the same day I lived yesterday. Day after day after day. We do the same things every day. Crazy to me.

    016sea5So, yeah, that list could be longer. A lot longer. There is NEVER a break from the broke-ness, chubbiness, plainness, chore-filled, monotonous day that makes up my life. Like, not even a day. Doesn’t that sound hopeless? Ha! I don’t go throughout my day in this mind frame. It’s just that these things pop into my head sometimes. When I sit & think on it, like now, it seems like a miserable life.

    So, why is it that I can’t label my life as such? What is it that makes my life perfect despite that mess of stuff up there? I don’t really DO much of anything. It’s not like I’m out changing the world. And, yet, I feel fulfilled. My heart aches, it feels so full.

    It’s those girls. It’s those two little beings that are a good bit the cause of my broke-ness, chubbiness, plainness, chore-filled life. (I can’t say monotonous because, believe me, they are ANYTHING but boring, those two.) Is that terrible to say? I mean, the part about them being partially responsible? I know I’m ultimately responsible, yes, but this motherhood gig is a sacrifice. What would I have to give up to change those things? Time? With them? My passion…which keeps me sane? It’s all okay, really.

    026desatsxy2It seems amazing to me that those two little girls can essentially change the way I’m wired… to make the emotion that would be naturally sparked from those situations completely evaporate only to be replaced with feelings of contentment, fulfillment & joy in the deepest crevices of my being. I think those things up there sometimes, and yet I’m STILL happy. It’s motherhood. It’s completely incomprehensible to me. It’s like a natural phenomenon. It doesn’t make sense, but it happens.

    I’m always trying to find words to fully encompass the magnitude of motherhood to no avail. But, I read something yesterday that I thought was SO amazing. SO true. SO much how I feel.

    “I need you to hear how intense this life can be, how immense it is, this
    vertigo, how blindingly terrifying it is to love this much, to hold pure human
    energy in your hands. To have it evoke such frantic wanting in you, and hope,
    and fear, and joy.”

    Gosh. I never realized it, never put two & two together, but it IS terrifying. Not in a “I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-this-miniature-person” way. Have you heard that quote about your heart walking around outside of your body? Yeah. Like that. My daughters have my heart. With them goes my completely unexposed, vulnerable heart. Every feeling, every emotion, every everything walks around with them all day long. Dang.

    They didn’t do a thing to earn my heart, either. It just happened. From the time I knew of them…it was theirs. Just when I thought I can’t love them anymore than I already do, I fall in love again. Just listen.

    About Amy Coffey

    Amy is a Texas based 30-something living the life in Comanche, Texas: population 4,259. Who says you have to live in the big city to live your dreams? Her soul’s hankerin’ to create has nurtured her love of writing, photography, design, daydreaming, and, oh, a billion other creative outlets that have caught her fancy at one time or another. Amy's crafty, clever, and conversational writing style is riddled with her quirky internal dialogue, not to mention raw emotion, introspection, and depth.
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