Have you ever felt like you’re on your last nerve, and that the challenges of parenting are some kind of mean prank? This mum has been there too, and realised that amidst the mayhem, something special lurks.
“Every day I’m a mother, a piece of me dies”
Writer and mum Mary Katherine Backstrom blogs at Mom Babble and she’s just shared a post on Facebook that – at first glance – seems to tell a hopeless tale about parenting.
On closer inspection, however, it becomes clear that Mary Katherine’s writing is actually a heartfelt tribute to the rewards parenting brings.
Okay, granted these rewards are sometimes very, very hard won, but MK’s post reminds us that if we take a step back and survey the (often chaos-filled scene) the growth that’s happening is life-changing, life-affirming stuff – albeit a little slow or painful at times.
Every day I'm a mother, a piece of me dies.My son is in his high chair and I’m cleaning the floor and dishes. His arm…
Delight in disguise
Mary Katherine’s piece takes readers through a number of exhausting snapshots of her day, and digs a little deeper to see what was really going on.
A highchair food-toddler-pocalypse turns from anger and a floor full of waffles and fruit to optimism sparked by her bright little boy.
The tease of a much-longed-for sleep-in morphs from FOMO frustration to doze-y, chatty deliciousness with her kiddo.
Memories of times without little paws reaching for her and little voices pleading for things, make way for tiny giggles and sweet footsteps just out of sight.
“Every day I’m a mother, a piece of me dies,” Mary Katherine explains – gratefully – as moves out of her pre-baby life and into a new one, as a mum.
“My heart is bigger”
“Motherhood has such a strange dichotomy,” she writes. “It is life-giving and exhausting. It constantly exercises my faith, tests my patience, and stretches my heart. But, as a result, my faith and patience are stronger. My heart is bigger. And although sometimes I still reach the end of my rope, my rope is getting longer.”
“It’s true that every day I’m a mother, a little piece of me dies. But I will not mourn these losses. My child is making me a better person every day. And then the piece of me that doubts I’m doing this “mom thing” right… it dies, too. And I’m left with gratitude. And a floor covered in waffle bits.”
What could be lovelier?
Does this all strike a very familiar chord with you?!