Bad Vibes, Good Mom
Let me set the stage: I was a couple weeks post-partum with my first baby. I was crying 2-3 hours out of every day. I was un-showered, more than a little smelly, and constantly leaking from one place or another. I was feeling overwhelmed enough changing my own diapers and managing my alternating Tylenol and Ibuprofen schedule, not to mention the sudden weight of being responsible for a tiny life. Like most new parents, my husband and I were deep in mental math - trying to figure out why the human we had birthed seemed to be crying most of the time. Was she too warm? Did she eat enough? Might the stitching in her onesie be irritating her delicate skin? We were grasping at straws, really, as our experience in this area was limited to a day-long infant class and underdeveloped base instincts.
My husband, in this moment, decided to put both my sanity and our marriage in immediate peril. As I paced around our dark bedroom bouncing our baby wildly while my arm muscles burned out, he suggested that maybe the secret to soothing our sad little nugget of a baby was simply – to have good vibes. He looked at me, crumbling before his very eyes, a hormonal garbage bag of a formerly happy woman, and decided the right answer was probably to tell me I had BAD VIBES and if I would just, you know, completely change the energy radiating from my very soul, our baby might be happy too.
While the words coming out of his mouth were less than serious, a little joke from a very calm human to an incredibly high-strung one, the idea that I might be emanating bad vibes that were making my daughter unhappy wormed its way into my unstable brain. It couldn’t be my fault, could it? But maybe it was. He had underestimated the squishiness of a new mom’s heart and the deep tracks that words can leave.
I began to replay the last few weeks. Maybe even the whole pregnancy. I had complained a lot. I hadn’t truly appreciated the pregnant glow, hadn’t savored every tiny baby kick. Her birth wasn’t a beautiful experience, in fact I barely remembered the whole jarring 24-hour ordeal. And when we got home? I looked at her little face and felt less awe – more awful. I missed my former life. I dreaded her cries and felt crippling anxiety as the sun set each night. I joined a new mom’s group and stayed silent when another mom wondered out loud how anyone could be depressed with such a sweet bundle in their arms. I felt the lead weight of the “I should’s” and they “why don’t I’s?”
Without knowing it, my husband had struck a nerve that ran deeper than even I knew. What if being a good mom was a vibe that you either had or you didn’t? I thought about the moms who savored every moment and waxed poetic about new baby smell. They must have the good mom vibe. I thought about the moms who ended up quitting their jobs because they couldn’t bear to leave their baby and return to work. They must have the good mom vibe. People like me who couldn’t really tell the new baby smell from any other human smell and who were secretly counting down the days to being back at work? Maybe the good mom vibe skips a generation.
Even after I forbade my husband from ever uttering the words “good vibes” again, the idea that my own brainwaves could somehow damage my child, that I was responsible not only for what I did as a parent but what I THOUGHT about parenting never really left me. Even now that I am (perhaps unhealthily) obsessed with my daughter and feel love for her that stretches my heart so much that it hurts, I still think about good mom vibes. I still don’t always feel like a mom, let alone a good one. I still struggle with this idea that you have to pour your whole self into parenthood and that you are expected to not only do a good job but enjoy every moment. Savor it, even. To somehow be calm and present in the fleeting days before your kids grow up and leave your nest.
A couple of years after having my daughter, we lost two pregnancies. Both were what they call “missed miscarriages” – meaning there are no signs until the first ultrasound. Suddenly, the pressure to have good vibes wormed their way into my brain again. Avoid stress, they said. Try not to worry about it, it will happen when it’s right. It’s nothing you did, they would say, but just in case – don’t go running, take supplements, eat the right things, and meditate. For some reason, no one seemed to be telling my husband to stay calm so his sperm would be at their best for the journey ahead. No one seemed to be assuring him that it wasn’t his fault.
It felt wrong when I was jealous of others’ easy pregnancies. I read stories about people who tried for years to get pregnant and finally, when they cleared their mind of all expectations and somehow entered a higher plain of consciousness, poof – they conceived. The pressure became not only about my body but once again about my mind. I should be calm, and composed, and sure about our next step. And for someone with anxiety, the mind is not an easily harnessed force. If I couldn’t control my thoughts, if I wasn’t manifesting the destiny I wanted, would I be worthy of another successful pregnancy?
Fast forward another couple of years, and our second child, a boy, is sleeping next to me as I write this. Having another child is difficult, and even more difficult after loss. Being post-partum again and in the throes of sleep deprivation and back on the hormone hamster wheel has me reflecting on good mom vibes. Am I loving the newborn stage this time around - now that I’m a wise and experienced parent? Nope. Do I sometimes regret having another baby and just want to escape to a deserted island where no one will need me? Yep. Have I figured out how to harness my thoughts into a clean little mold of a happy and fulfilled mom who cherishes every bit of the experience, especially after going through so much to bring this second child into the world? Nope.
But am I a good mom? YEP.
If you’re like me, you can be part of the bad vibes, good moms club. Where bad days are ok. Where we can talk about all the ways we love and hate being a mom, at the same time. Where we know that our thoughts don’t define us. Where we can complain one minute and brag about our genius, magnificent children the next. Where being a good mom can be just one part of who we are. Where finding enjoyment in being mom can be a slow burn instead of an instant upgrade.
And, where we can agree that men say some very stupid things.
