Advice to My Younger Self: From Barely Surviving Motherhood to Embracing My Story
Our podcast celebrated its one-year anniversary this month! Although my voice isn’t a regular on our show, I decided to join the chit-chat.
To honor this special milestone, we asked our blog readers and podcast listeners what advice they would give their younger selves. The responses were pure gold!
A few days after our recording, Abby and I were talking about some of the advice we had received. She asked what it would have looked like to take the confidence she now has as a mom of three and bring it to her first-time mom self.
At first, I laughed, because a lack of confidence is a first-time mom signature move; then I had an overwhelming surge of sadness.
Motherhood was a hard-fought battle those first few years.
There was no quiet, beautifully painted nursery to rock my baby to sleep in.
We were living in poverty, so our hand-me-down crib was shoved into the widening of the hallway outside my bedroom in our 800-square-foot house.
But even if I had had a nursery, I doubt I would have gotten my firstborn to sleep in it.
We both spent the first six months of his life bawling our eyes out.
Me, because I had no idea how to be a mother, and I was bitter from the loss of my mom a week before he arrived. And him, because I didn’t understand his cues, coupled with my anxiety, made it impossible for him to regulate. He looked to me for calm but was never able to find it.
I had pretty serious postpartum depression, so I experienced thoughts that I won't dare write down. Let's just say, it's a miracle I went on to have a second child, because I was convinced I wasn't cut out to be a mom.
No part of it came naturally to me, and I struggled to find the joy in any of it.
So when Abby talked about bringing the confidence she has now into her first-time-mom body, it hit a nerve.
One of our followers' advice began with, “Which version of me?” Yes! There are countless versions of myself in the rearview mirror. But the one I was recalling was holding a 6-pound little boy.
Part of me wanted to cry, thinking about my current self putting an arm around 21-year-old me and saying it's going to be ok. Telling her that she would survive the dark days of depression, the endless hours of crying, the icky voices in her head, and that child would grow into a young man. And that firstborn son would help welcome 8 more newborns into this world, and that all of them would be welcomed into loving and much more confident and capable arms.
I would affirm to her that it may be hard, but it won't be impossible. I would gently tell her that she may be lost inside her young, scared, grieving body, but one day she would emerge full of life and ready to take on anything with the army of children that she brought into this world.
I realize now that while recording our podcast, I never bothered to answer the question of what advice I would give to my younger self.
Instead of hiding behind our readers' and listeners' advice, what exactly would I tell myself?
Hmm.
Do you ever notice how time travel ALWAYS ends in tragedy in movies?
In that vein, I want to say first that my story hasn't been the easiest, but I wouldn't change the other circumstances of my life. Had I gotten married later, waited longer to have babies, had more money, a bigger house, etc., my story wouldn't be the same.
It's a tragic nightmare to even consider how differently my life could have been!
So my advice to my former self, my current self, and my future self is to remain always faithful. Following God's will is the ONLY thing that ever stays the same.
As Catholics, we die to our old selves and become a new creation at our Baptism, every time we go to Confession, and every single time we do God's will over our own desires.
What a gift! "His mercies are new every morning."
I hope my current & future selves cling to this promise as I continue to live a life more amazing than what my younger self could have ever imagined.
I turn 38 today. As hard as it is to add another candle to the cake, I’m learning to see that those flames represent the story of my life, and I thank God for keeping the pen safely in His hand and out of my own.
Until next time, your sister in Christ, Leah
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