I secretly struggled with infertility for several years during my first marriage. First in my mid-twenties and then again for several more years - not so secretly this time round - in my second marriage until I finally got pregnant 7 years later at the age of 41. And I remember, during my time of deep emotional anxiety of failing to get pregnant, I used to think motherhood was effortless. I watched mothers around me and all I saw was the beautiful side of it. It looked like so much fun, seeing the way moms cuddled with their babies, played games with them and even made changing diapers look like it was a breeze. I couldn’t wait for the day I became a mother, and when that day did come, I realized pretty quick that this shit is hard. Had I been under a completely false illusion? Or was I too busy struggling to get pregnant that I mistook motherhood for a-happily-ever-ending fairytale??
Was I the Charlotte York of mothers? Hopelessly romantic and completely unrealistic in my expectations of how my life would change?
I thought if anyone would be a natural at motherhood, it would be me. I mean I was THAT woman who endured many years of having nervous breakdowns every month when I got my period or after every failed IVF round. I wore my 8 rounds of IVF like a badge of honor. I mean… hell, I tried relentlessly to get pregnant for over 10 years, of course I was going to be a great mother, and of course i was going to love every fucking second of it.
As it turns out, I wasn’t such a good mother. For the first year and a half, absolutely nothing about motherhood came naturally to me—not the maternal bond, nor the maternal instinct, the breastfeeding, the love-at-first-sight, none of it. And I was miserable in the early stages. I had no idea what I was doing and how I willingly got myself into this mess. My husband and I had even invested our hard earned money into this. What were we thinking? My internal monologue had completely taken over all of my rational thinking, and all the negative thoughts you could think of played out in my head on repeat: “How can I not have this down pat??”, “Everybody’s doing it, it can’t be that hard!” and “maybe this was God’s way of telling me I would be no good at it and tried to spare me the agony”!
I was now looking at mothers very differently. I closely watched them with genuine curiosity and wonderment trying to figure out how they were doing it. If it came naturally to them, or if it was because they had more emotional and moral support from their families and friends, were getting solid advice, were better at hiding their hardships than I was, or if they were just on cruise control mode. What was it?
I desperately needed to find my tribe, and out of that came Mommy’s Happy Hour. I wanted to connect with mothers who like to keep it real. The women I speak to are inspiring, interesting, dynamic, and above all have an interesting story to share.
My guests come from all walks of life, I’ve loved every second of this journey so far, and I’m excited to keep it going! Join me for some good laughs and some real talk.