Motherhood is Too Big for Me
There are days when I feel like motherhood is too big for me. Not in a poetic sense, but literally. Like I’m living a life that asks more of me than I have to give. Like everyone expects me to know exactly what I’m doing, while I’m here trying not to fall apart in the hallway. Not because I don’t love my kids or because I don’t want to be here. It’s that quiet feeling that shows up when I look at myself from the outside and realize I’m still trying to catch up with myself.
Some mornings I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the woman staring back. Tired eyes. Hair twisted in a messy bun. An inner silence that weighs. I used to be able to breathe more easily. Now, sometimes I feel like I’m breathing out of obligation.
Sometimes I catch myself thinking I should have it all figured out by now. I should know how to handle tantrums, anticipate the sleepless nights, divide myself between the house, work, the life I had before, and this new one that sometimes swallows everything else. And it’s not that I want my old life back. Being a mom is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. But even so, there are moments when I feel so small in the face of everything motherhood demands.
I know I’m supposed to be grateful for every moment. That there’s this story out there where moms are warriors, multitasking, miraculous. I don’t feel like that. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I’m juggling things I was never taught to hold, and every ball that drops reminds me that I’m not enough. The truth is, these days I don’t feel big at all. Not at work, not at home, not in my relationship. Least of all in motherhood.
Sometimes I hide in the bathroom for two minutes. Not to rest. To exist. To hear myself think. And even then, there’s always a small knock on the door, a voice calling, a cry that cuts through the air. And I come out, because I have to, even when I don’t have the strength inside.
No one talks enough about this part. The part where you question if you made the right choice, even though you love your children. The part where you feel guilty for not enjoying what’s supposed to be magical. The part where you think maybe everyone else is handling it better.
On my most honest days, I know it’s not true. It’s not just me. There’s no hidden manual. No secret level to unlock. Motherhood is big. Huge. So big it overflows sometimes. And I think the hardest thing to accept is that it’s not that I’m not enough. It’s that this is immense. It’s too big for me because it’s meant to grow over you, to stretch you, to push you into a space you don’t yet understand. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it’s exhausting. Sometimes it leaves me breathless.
I don’t have a hopeful ending for this. I don’t have a reflection that makes it neat. Today, motherhood is simply too big for me. And that’s it.
