Firstborn children are special. You know why? Because they are the guinea pigs of all mothers everywhere. Let’s be honest, how many of us knew what the heck we were doing when that ceremonial hospital wheelchair pushed us out into our new world, bundle in arms, like a runner coming out of the starting block? We might have thought we knew what we were doing since we bought the right running shoes, or because we read lots of books about how to run a race, but we quickly found out how different having and knowing were from actually doing.
But it’s not really accurate to compare motherhood to running a race, especially considering we’re the only ones on the track (motherhood is not a competition). And motherhood is really much more like a lifelong marathon than a race. Yes, it’s better to compare motherhood to learning how to run–or write, or cook, or do math, or play a musical instrument. What do all of these things have in common? They require lots of practice, and even more patience.
Fortunately, the opportunities to “practice” motherhood are never in short supply, but what about the accompanying patience? I’m not talking about the kind required to “keep calm and carry on” amid toddler tantrums or teenage rebellion (that’s coming up later in the month), but rather the kind that helps us to be okay with learning from our mistakes as we grow into motherhood–even if it feels like we’re progressing at a tortoise’s pace! (We can’t really expect to be storybook mothers simply because we gave birth, right?)
I wish I had been more patient with myself when I first became a mother. I didn’t know the feelings of inadequacy would never go away as I continued to come up against a series of “firsts.” I don’t feel any more competent mothering my oldest as a teenager than I did when mothering her as a baby. She is always teaching me new things with each new stage that we go through together–things I can’t always anticipate, things I haven’t quite figured out yet–and somehow she’s still wonderful. (That’s why I say our firstborn guinea pigs are special. I’m convinced they have built-in mechanisms to deflect the negative effects of our inadequacies!) Much like our children, mothers really are a work in progress.
The good news is, now that I’ve been around the block four times, I can deftly maneuver a toddler tantrum or the whining of a preschooler in my sleep. (That might be an exaggeration.) And I don’t get nearly as overwhelmed by the amount of “parent paperwork” that comes home in my grade schoolers backpacks as I did in years past.
But teenage attitude and moodiness? That’s new frontier. I can read about it, talk to more experienced mothers about it, and try to tackle it head on, but really, I’m at square one again for the fifty bajillionth time. Patience, Allyson, patience. After all, I still have to get children through high school alive, send them off to college, take part in their weddings, learn to be a mother-in-law, then grandmother . . .
I am both comforted and motivated by the way I feel about toddler tantrums now versus then. It tells me that even though there is no definitive end point at which I will have everything figured out and have all the right answers, I do get “better” over time. (Did I really ever think these things would come quickly and naturally?)
Just like all good runners (and writers, cooks, mathematicians, and musicians), there will always be more to learn and ways to improve, but if we know it’s going to be a life long process, why get impatient with our progress? Motherhood truly is the ultimate marathon, so we can’t give up on ourselves if we stumble coming out of the starting block any more than if we get tripped up somewhere near the finish line. We’re in this for the long haul, and it was never meant to be easy.
Benjamin Franklin said, “He that can have patience, can have what he will.” I’d like to tweak that to say, “She that can have patience, can become the mother that she will.”
QUESTION: In what ways are you a better mother now than when you left the hospital with your first baby?
CHALLENGE: Just as you try to exercise patience for your children, try to exercise a little patience for the developing mother in you.