As I was taking a shower this morning, my thoughts were on motherhood. What it means to be a mother, and what I expected when I became a mother.

It turns out, motherhood has been exactly zero of the things that I thought it meant and zero of the things that I expected 4 years ago when I had my son.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my son was only 2 ½. Everyone around me said I should be glad that he was too little to remember. That it wouldn’t affect him and that it really is the “best time” for me to be sick. Cancer muggles say the darndest things.

Still, I knew what they didn’t know because I could feel it. As my energy and spirit dwindled, a pandemic hit and I found myself at home with my toddler full time and with no outside help.

I don’t know if you have had a toddler but, well, let’s just say that with them, the highs are high and the lows are low and all of it requires all of your energy and patience. Patience, I had, but I was plum out of energy. I would sit on a chair in the yard and encourage him to play but what he really wanted was ME. He wanted ME to play with him.

“Mama come play!” and I would have to say “Remember, Mama, is sick and needs rest.” And so, my sweet little boy would play alone until he got too sad and he would ask me again. I tried so hard, and when I had the energy, I gave it to him.

After treatment, I gained energy back, things settled down and I wanted so badly to show up in the way I thought I should show up for him. But for almost a year, he wanted nothing to do with me. He only wanted his dad. He would cry harder if I tried to comfort him after a fall. He would fall asleep with tears in his eyes because he wanted his dad to put him to bed. He told me his dad was his best friend and that I needed to go away while they were playing.

Now listen, I know you aren’t supposed to let your 3-year-old’s words get to you. Everybody knows toddlers are assholes. It just stung because of the year we had before because I felt like I had failed. 

This is the part where I tell you things got better.

The first step was having grace with myself. I was the one who needed to recognize all that I DID do for him. In his developing brain, he couldn’t see the nuances of the effort I was making. He wasn’t mad at me, just confused. He may not have understood why I was too tired to play, but I knew that I was giving my all. That I will always give my all for him. 

Now that he is older, he sees me in a different light. It took a year for me to feel like I had reconnected with him, and it was hard-fought, but I feel our bond getting stronger. And now when he says “Mama, Play with me!” The answer is always, “yes!”

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So, Mama, have grace with yourself.

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You are never-failing your child when you show up for them in whatever capacity you can. And you certainly aren’t failing them when you show them the strength and tenacity you have. They will understand all day what you did for them.