I never thought too much about whether I’d be a mother (see this post if you’d like). I thought about becoming a mother about as much as I think about breathing or blinking. So after I got married (at the absurd age of 19), the question was never really if we should have kids, but when. So we had kids-three of them-who are now 8, (almost) 11, and 14. They’re great kids. Really, they are. Everyone tells us as much. They get good grades in school, they excel in extracurricular activities (although more the musical ones than the athletic ones), and most importantly-they are nice to other kids. I see that they are good kids. I sometimes enjoy being with them. They are funny and witty and bright. They make me laugh. Sometimes they are wise beyond their years. I’m very grateful to have these three and not someone else’s three.
But still-I sometimes feel like they are sucking every last drop of life right out of me (see statue of woman with children crawling all over her). Last week in an exhausted mini-email-rant to my husband, I told him I feel like Alice in Wonderland . . . shrinking and shrinking until pretty soon no one will even be able to see me anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve had kids. But the thing is-you can’t know whether you should have kids until you have them. I’ve heard of people who never wanted kids. And then for some reason, they end up with a child and they love it! It feels like they were meant to be parents all along! And they all live happily ever after. But how might you find out whether you’re “meant” to have kids . . . until you have them?
I’m not shy about not loving parenthood (most of the time), so I was intrigued when one of my co-workers sent me this article on Facebook with a comment something like, “Hey, at least we’re not this bad.” The article tells the story of Rahna Reiko Rizzuto, a professor of creative writing and author of the memoir Hiroshima in the Morning-a book that chronicles the six months she spent in Japan on a fellowship and the decision she made while there to end her 20-year marriage and give up her rights as the custodial parent of her children. In 2008, she moved 3,000 miles away from them and now keeps in touch with her kids (15, 11, and 7-hauntingly similar ages as my own) via phone, IM, and Skype several times a week.
As I read about this woman and scribbled down the title of her memoir to read in the future, I had very mixed emotions. First, I was shocked that she had done something so unthinkable. She seriously just walked away from motherhood! Then, I realized that men do this all the time. They decide they need to go find themselves, or they trade their middle-aged wife in for a newer model. And no one really bats an eye. I also felt sympathy for this woman-something I didn’t really want to feel. I wanted to scorn her for what she had done. I wanted to be incredulous (my favorite emotion!). Instead, I just felt sad for her and for her kids. And then I felt happy for her because she seems to be at peace. And then I felt bad for feeling happy for her. How could I feel bad for someone who had done something so dreadful?
What do y’all think? Do you moms out there ever feel like the Incredible Shrinking Mother? (Okay, dads, you can weigh in, too.) Do you long for a day or a week or a month (or longer, like Rizzuto) without your kids? Or maybe even just 10 minutes? Do you ever feel like you are disappearing or worry about what will be left of you once your children are no longer living with you? Do you think Rizzuto was despicably selfish (as some of the comments I’ve read about her over the last week)? Do you pity her? Is there a space for a sympathetic or (gasp!) empathetic response to her actions?
My favorite part of the day is that little sliver of time between my work and picking up the kids, when I’m all alone in my own house. While I type this, my two little ones are upstairs screaming bloody murder at each other. I totally understand not knowing what the experience of having kids will be like until you have them, and I definitely relate to your image of the incredible shrinking woman.
I have empathy for the Rizzuto – I feel like I understand why she would leave. The flip side for me though, is the incredible bond I feel with my kids. After that quiet time I get, I love picking them up and seeing their faces. I’m glad there’s screaming and laughing and little pairs of shoes cluttering up my house and that it’s not empty. I feel in my gut and heart that they need me like they need air, and I’ll move hell and high water to be with them and provide what they need to the best of my ability. That kind of devotion and love is unexplainable and unparalleled, IMO.
It’s an odd conundrum – the two realities playing out side-by-side.
I completely emphathize with Rizzuto and without regular solitude I can sink into a quick and suffocating depression. However, for me, it is more as Laurie described, “an odd conundrum — the two realities playing out side-by-side.”
There was a beautiful children’s book that my mom had when we were growing up about how everyone needs a little house of their own — a space that is just theirs. I need my children, but I also need a house (or a room) of my own. At various times that room has been working, an afternoon to myself, time to write each day or even abandoning my duties for a book — the form it takes doesn’t really matter, I just know that I need to stay connected to the part of me that is not a mother.
I don’t doubt that some people — men and women — need big rooms. Still, despite the potentially soul crushing work of parenting, I struggle with the idea of leaving children (for both men and women). Another parenting book I like suggested, “joint custody, hold the divorce!” I like that and would advocate a middle path — trying to build a life where finding space doesn’t require moving to another country.
Heidi, I like the idea of needing a room–whether physical or metaphorical space or time. I think I do need more time/space than a lot of other mothers I know.
I think a lot of people must look at me and think: “Geez–she works from 8:00-6:00, how could she possibly need more time away from her kids?” And I have often asked myself the same question. But while in some ways, my work is a “break” from the kids, it is not easy and does not fill that need for me. Without it, I think I would be either dead or certifiably insane, but I still need time away from my kids that’s NOT my work time.
I live 3 minutes away from home, which is great in so many ways. My poor husband lives 75 miles away from work. So I shouldn’t complain, I know. But still, I struggle sometimes when I go from working-working-working and then 3 minutes later, from kids fighting, household tasks, signing papers, preparing food, doing laundry, helping with homework, etc. I sometimes don’t handle that transition very well . . .
When the marriage drops in priority to the kids, when time for each other is rare – yeah, I fantasize about life without kids.
Saying that makes me cringe in selfishness – I love my kids beyond words, but I want to be in my wife’s top-10 list of priorities and most days I barely make it into the picture for acknowledgement. And it’s not just the kids fault – we both work and have hobbies and pastimes of our own, but parenting is a black hole for every resource we have. Time, money, energy, worry and thought – it all goes towards the children and never feels like enough.
We married each other – we choose each other, but the focus is on the kids now. We may even have forgotten each other at this point, 16 years into parenting with at least another 8 to go. Will we surface from primary-parenting duties and remember what our original thoughts and needs were? Will we be even close to the same people we were when we started this venture 18 years ago?
James, I love the way you put it–“Time, money, energy, worry and thought — it all goes towards the children and never feels like enough.” Yes!
I think I’m too open/forthright with my kids about how they drain me. I often tell them that I need time to myself or that they’re just demanding too much of my energy/resources. And then I feel bad about it. They’re just kids, after all.
But (ha! there’s always a “but”), maybe it’s not so bad for them to get a real as opposed to candy-coated vision of what parenting’s like from their mom. ??
And yes–it’s such a LONG commitment–we’re 14 years in and our youngest just turned 8, so we have at least 10 more years of kids in the house, daily care, etc. That’s 24 years and we only have 3 kids. Wow. 24 years is a long, long, long time.
James–You will not be the same people you were when you started your parenting venture. And you will have to rebuild your lives when the kids leave. Parents of grown children who insist their kids take inferior jobs in order to stay near the family nest limit their children’s and grandchildren’s lives.
Heather–wonderful post. Any normal person feels drowned by parenthood at times–but the kids do grow up and move into their own lives.
I can really relate to the metaphor of the “shrinking woman.” That’s how I felt as a mother of children still at home. It improved when I started working outside the home (when the fourth/youngest child entered Kindergarten). Those hours away from them, focussed on something else entirely, gave me the stamina to go home and deal with them again. Now that they are all grown up and have families of their own, they can still be an emotional drain sometimes, as their struggles can continue to be my struggles. However, I have to tell you that, despite how much I often disliked being a mom, I LOVE being a grandma. The grandchildren come to my house, or we go somewhere together, and we have a great time. They call me on the phone at random times to share their joys. But, at the end of the day, I send them home to their parents. It is the best thing ever.
So, hang in there with the parenting. It’s hard, no doubt about it, but the best is yet to come.
I hope I have the opportunity to love being a grandparent, CatherineWO. It seems like something I could really get into. ;)
So, maybe our sojourn on Earth is like a heavenly version of band camp?
Slate has a great article, citing some interesting research on how kids make us less happy, but we are addicted to them.
http://www.slate.com/id/2274721/
Can’t fight that brain chemistry, y’all.
Colin, come back! I didn’t get the band camp joke! ;)
That article is an amazing read. I’m gonna have to sit and chew on that one for a while.
Great post. I feel shrunk for sure. I am still processing the possibility that I am something other than a mother. I never wanted to be a mother but felt obligated like it was my duty. I took seriously that I was the vessel through which as many children as god would send were to be born. I AM an overachiever I know. Now that 7 of my children have left home, (4 left at home) I do get much joy out of knowing that they are my children who are SOOOO successful in their own ways.
I am delighted and relieved when I read here that many of you will be done with parenting in only 24 years! When I added up the years that I was to be a full time parent I accidentally thought it was only 29 yrs. That moment made my misery seem so small and insignificantly different than most others. THEN as I was typing this, I notice that it is actually 39 yrs. Back to flattened, not just shrinking. LOL
And for the record, I totally empathize with the woman who left her family. When I only had 9 children I was intent on leaving and pretending I NEVER had kids. I wanted a career, a life with just me and my husband, or me and a lover for all I cared. AND I was already soooooo smashed, flat flat as a mat, that I was truly unable to even function let alone take care of myself and have a career. I had not finished my education to a level of career and my confidence was completely gone. Staying in the marriage and caring for the children just seemed the logical thing to do. Here I am today, still pretending to the world be a mother, while telling my kids “I quit, I am no longer your mother.” Conundrum alright.
Bless all mothers who feel shrunk, shrinking, or down right flattened. Doubly bless those who kept and keep standing in spite of the pressure, you got a career, you took care to save your soul and yourselves and your marriages and your motherhood all at the same time!!!! And bless those who chose to leave AFTER they had children and just knew it was best for the children that the father get another wife to care for him and the children. I am NOT proud of ANY of my choices. I just hope I live long enough to apologize to all those hurt by my choices AND to set free the person that is hiding somewhere inside me afraid to come out.
@Gail K, I always love your honesty, but in many ways your posts/comments are just heartbreaking to read. 39 years!!!?? That is harrowing! So my 24 years must seem like just a tiny blip to you . . .
For me, my career is a form of self-preservation. It has been the only thing keeping me from getting squashed flat by that huge shoe . . .
Ah, this post strikes close to home in so many ways, Heather.
You can’t know whether you should have kids until you have them.
I like to tell people that my husband and I planned on having a big family of 4-6 kids, until child 1 was born. At that point I realized, um, no, I shouldn’t have kids. So, now we just try our hardest with the one we have and look forward to the day when he is grown up.
Do you think Rizzuto was despicably selfish (as some of the comments I’ve read about her over the last week)? Do you pity her? Is there a space for a sympathetic or (gasp!) empathetic response to her actions?
Not only do I not think that Rizzuto’s actions were reprehensible, I envy her in a lot of ways. She has done the thing that I have fantasized about every night for the past 4 years. Moreover, she left her children in the care of the custodial spouse – a very responsible action. Her actions are no more selfish than the man who divorces his wife and does not seek custody, which happens every day in America. I don’t mean to say that when men leave their children without a second thought that this is good or right; merely that for either a man or woman to do so is very understandable.
You are right to point out the double-standard of society’s censure regarding custodial mothers vs. fathers. While I agree with Laurie and Heidi in the sense that I do have an intense attachment to my son, I don’t think that that bond has to be mother-specific. I think that it is problematic when society assumes the mother-child bond but ignores the father-child bond. In cases where mom doesn’t feel that intense bond with her child, she ends up feeling guilty. That isn’t appropriate, either.
The one thing I will say is that because I realized early on in mothering that I shouldn’t have more children, it has made the “Shrinking Woman” issue much less of a problem. My son is in a great preschool program during the week now, and I am finally starting to focus on building my career again. I don’t worry about what will happen when he is grown up and moved out because I have already begun to reengage with my life. This reengaging has kept the urge to run away limited to my fantasies.
I completely agree about the double standard for women and men and it bears repeating that it isn’t like Rizzuto left her child on the doorstep of an orphanage, she left her boys with their father and continues to see them and be actively engaged in their lives as does the other woman mentioned in the article. In our home, my husband has a very intense and individual bond with each of our children, just as I do. Those bonds shouldn’t be gender specific. And, the truth of the matter is that relationships with children are like any other relationship — they have their ups and downs, sometimes you are closer and sometimes you need time apart. I know I am a better mother since my youngest started pre-school, those three hours have kept me from feeling flattened and I am looking forward to her starting full-time school in the fall.
Part of me envies her as well, Kate! And when that reaction registered in my head, I felt terrible! Dang! But the kids are just soul-sucking at times. There really is no other way for me to put it.
And so when I contrast my experience with the kind of rhetoric I am treated to routinely at my church (and have been for my entire life), the difference is just, wow, stark. So according to that rhetoric, my main purpose on this planet is to have children and love them. What to do when you don’t enjoy what is supposedly the primary objective of your existence?
Well, in my case, I discard the expectation. But darn if it doesn’t keep coming back to bite me in the butt. I have two daughters who are being treated to it on an almost weekly basis. So even though I have largely discarded that expectation, I have not been able to truly get away from it or ignore it entirely. Now I get to (have to?) help my daughters negotiate it as well. And my son. I’ve expended a LOT of energy negotiating this issue. It’s exhausting to contemplate.
Such an interesting topic Heather!
I think so many people bash on Rizzuto because we, as mothers, can’t decide if we envy her or despise her.
As a divorced mom who has to share my kids, I have this perspective:
Sometimes, I countdown until Thursday night when I know the kids will go to their dad’s and I will have a night of peace. Sometimes, I feel bad that I look forward to my “every other weekend” of quiet time.
BUT, sometimes, when they are gone, I ache for the sound of their voices. Sometimes, I cry at the emptiness of the silence in my home.
When I went through my divorce, the thought of losing them made me lose my mind.
BUT, being alone with them day after day after day made me feel like I had lost my mind.
I don’t know which of these feelings is my TRUE self. I only know that I love my children with a love I cannot begin to describe, but too much time with them makes me crazy.
It seems that these feelings are not “allowed” in mothers. I guess the archetypal mother is perceived as having open arms, patience, kindness, an abundance of love and warmth, freshly baked cookies, and a clean, inviting home. She kisses owies, cures teenage mood swings with her wisdom, and entertains the masses of children with her stories and games.
Maybe we need to revisit our definition of motherhood. I know I don’t fit the above description.
Anyone who’s a good parent knows EXACTLY what you’re talking about.
I think our children are another lesson in extremes – we experience the sheer terror and exhaustion, so that we can better appreciate the moments of peace and joy. I’ve never laughed harder than I have because of my kids. I’ve never been so angry than I have because of my kids. Yesterday, my husband and I had a 5-minute moment when I came home from work, just laying on the bed and talking. It was quiet, no one was coming to find us, and I know I would not have appreciated that moment with him nearly as much as I could have without my kids. They say that the challenges we face in life are what make us who we are, right?
@Jessica, very true. I have also laughed and cried and been angry more with and because of my kids than anyone/anything else.
But sometimes I still wish it could be easier . . . ;)
I see kids and parents all the time. I teach school. Kids are hard. They require a lot of energy. They are parasites to all. I’m not saying they aren’t worth it . . . but most of the time. . . it’s only a woman who will put up with that amount of toil for someone else with little or no personal benefit.
. . . day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die, Gen. 2:17
Some people take this kind of personal sacrifice better than others. It’s degrading. It’s lowly. It’s a lot of cleaning, feeding, cleaning, organizing, cleaning, working. Just so you know . . . they are sucking the life out of you for real. I guess that is good in some ways, but . . . it’s kind of sad to be dying like that.
Yes, Angie . . .
One of my kids was asking about how they were born once . . . so I told them (sparing the worst of the details) the story of each of their births.
They got quiet and then one of them whispered, “Mom, you did that . . . THREE times??” I laughed and told them yep. Then the oldest said, “So the first time, you didn’t know what you were getting into, but after that, you did it on purpose?” And I told them yep again.
I guess it does induce some degree of insanity. It has to because having children just makes no sense.
“I guess it does induce some degree of insanity. It has to because having children just makes no sense.”
YEP!!
Huh…ok, I’ll be honest. I can’t really relate…Maybe the problem is that I’m just at the beginning of parenting – with only 2 kids, and just 3 years into the whole thing. I can relate, of course, to feeling exhausted at times, and wanting a break. But, honestly, I’ve never wanted an actual break from my kids. I love being a mother. I love being around my kids. I do enjoy my down time, at night when they go to bed, and I can read a book, or watch TV, comment on blogs or spend time with my husband. But, the kids are always in the back of my mind. I’m always happy to see them in the morning, and I usually miss them when I’m somewhere without them. My husband and I do babysitting trade-offs with other couples to be able to go on dates without having to pay for a baby sitter. It’s funny to me that while some of the other couples seem eager to drop of their kids, and get the whole 4 hours, we’re usually running late, and back early to pick up our kid, and then we’re always eager to see her…and it’s only been 3 hours or less.
Anyway, I think needing down time, time for oneself is crucial as a mother. No one can give and care 24/7. So, I think it’s important to separate those feelings from maybe not liking your kids or not wanting to be a mother. But, beyond that I could never imagine leaving my kids in someone else’s care permanently. I could not imagine ever doing what Rizzuto did. However, I’m not judging her…it may have been the best for all involved. But I could neverever do it. I love being a mother. With all the hardships it entails quite frequently, I feel it’s truly the most meaningful thing I’ve done/become in my life so far. I don’t think I’ve derived as much happiness from anything else. Maybe that just means I haven’t done a lot of other cool things, or maybe I’m not giving my all yet to motherhood, and so it seems easier than it should. But, I just love it. I wouldn’t want to miss this time of my life for anything in the world.
Love your honesty, Fran. I only occasionally love it–and I’m 14 years into the whole “parenting project.”
I would not even consider making that choice, but it’s hard enough for me that I do not vilify her for doing it.
Oh man, I could have written Emily’s response above. There are many ways to go crazy. :)
I am fascinated by the double standard in judgment about her decision. I can see that it is an unfair double standard, but my gut response was to be baffled by how she could do such a thing. Of course, if a man signed away his rights, I would feel saddened for him … but probably not as baffled. That expectation of nurturing can be pretty unbending …
I’ve been thinking about the fact that she wrote a memoir about it. Is that brave or exploitative? Or maybe just 21st century?
That’s a good question. For the last two or three years, I feel like I’ve seen or read an article every week or two gleefully debunking any myths about parental bliss, talking about the fatigue, the poop, how much harder it is than it looks. Some of these are more insightful than others, but they do follow a “I love my kids, wouldn’t trade them for the world, but …” formula. Of course, Rizzuto’s book is making an impact and still has the ability to shock because it is going beyond the conventional norms for confessing parental malaise.
That is a good question, but she had a different reason initially for going to Hiroshima. So that makes a difference to me.
I liked Eat, Pray, Love, for instance, but was annoyed (perhaps unfairly) that she planned to write the book. Perhaps that’s a romantic view of authorship. But I think I would’ve liked it more had she been there for another reason, and then while there (or after returning), decided to write the book.
Thank you Gail for sharing your experience. I have 3 children under three and most days I feel incredibly on edge so I cannot even imagine how much work 9 would be. I recently decided to go back to school in order to find the pre-children girl that I know is lurking in me, but I am constantly worried about how my refusal to let my children completely squash me is going to affect them, because a lot of family members think what I am doing is the epitome of selfishness and bad motherhood. I really enjoyed reading these posts because I am being to realize that you are always going to fall short somewhere, and at some point parents need to accept their own needs so they can be better parents. I suppose everyone else has already figured this out, but I am just getting there so thanks to everyone for sharing their experiences
Three children under three, Jay. Wow. What’s most important to realize, in my opinion, is that everyone’s line in the sand is going to be in a different place. I am sad to hear that people feel you are being selfish. It’s not their place to judge, is it? What seems like bliss to one person might seem intolerable to another. For me, being a stay-at-home-mom was intolerable. It was soul-sucking.
I hope my kids understand (and I think they do) that I needed to work and pursue a career for self-preservation reasons. It wasn’t selfish.
@Jay, My heart goes out to you. You are in such an exhausting time, I really floundered when my children were three and under (and I only had two). One of the things that got me through was an obscure little book called The Mother Trip by Ariel Gore. I am a broken record about this book, I recommend it to all my mama friends. I think the reason that it meant so much to me is that it deals in a soulful and funny way with the emotional life of mothers and I so needed that. Anyways, in it, she writes:
“‘Children need interesting mothers,’ the feminist scholar Marge Frantz once noted. And women need interesting lives … We need to take care of ourselves so that we can mother our children soulfully and lead lives worth living … As Anais Nin said, ‘We will always have conflict between our growth and our fear that that growth will overshadow someone else.’ Namely, our kids. But, remember, when we talk about taking care of ourselves, we are not talking about neglecting our children. We are talking about practicing and modeling self-respect, self-care and self-empowerment.”
As Heather said, every family is different and every mother has different needs, but recognizing those needs might be the very best thing you can do for your children.