Inside Chapter 1 …

Lynn expresses what I refer to as conflicting feelings. Conflicting feelings confuse mothers most. They are periodic feelings of resentment, anger, hate, anxiety, regret, despair, and other feelings that seemingly contradict the love they have for their children. As heartbreaking as these feelings may be to experience, they are quite common among mothers. Typically mothers come face-to-face with conflicting feelings when coping with extremes, such as extreme fatigue or frustration. I know when I was pushed beyond my capacity to cope or when my needs were consistently not being met, words would slip from my mouth that I knew were harsh but true in the moment. Anyone listening might have said that I was an angry, resentful mother who didn't like her children. That's why I have only spewed those words under my breath or in the privacy of my bedroom while trying to compose myself. Likewise, my conflicting feelings emerged when I felt burned out, when I couldn't interrupt another tantrum or settle an argument over a twenty-five-cent piece of junk the girls bought from the arcade at the supermarket, a very ugly incident indeed; I lost control in the parking lot, yelling about the cheap necklace that would certainly break by evening and my desire to be "free" again, wandering solo through parks and malls and anywhere I wanted to go, when I wanted to go, for as long as I wanted to go, untouched by the details and nonsense of children. Of course, as conflicting feelings go, within the hour I was regretting that I ever spoke those words aloud.

At the root of conflicting feelings exists the mental anguish that accompanies a mother's diminishing sense of self; this mental anguish is grief. Having conflicting feelings toward one's child does not suggest a lack of love nor does it reflect the decision to have children or the desire to live another lifestyle. Rather, it's the grief over the loss of self that causes mothers to know the conflicting feelings they battle; moments of extreme fatigue or frustration merely expose the grief because in those moments mothers usually feel as out of touch with themselves as they can possibly feel. There is nothing left to give. The well was never filled, so to speak, and now it's dry, especially for Mom. Anyone listening closely would hear the questions these mothers ask under their breath, questions that begin with "why," "when," and "what," as in "Why did I have children?" or "When do I get my life back?" or "What happened to me?" These kinds of questions illuminate conflict, the natural conflict that exists between the sacrifices that are required of a mother and a mother's desire to preserve her sense of self. When circumstances tilt the extraordinary balance needed to assuage this conflict, mothers slowly lose their sense of self and generally confront the conflicting feelings associated with Maternal Intrapersonal Anxiety (MIA).

Inside Chapter 2 …

Mothers don't usually consider a lost sense of self as a reason for their negative self-talk, conflicting feelings, or symptoms probably because the whole concept of self, one's sense of self, is so abstract and elusive. And then to talk about losing that sense of self, well, that may be pushing things. Another reason might involve the fact that childbirth is usually thought of as an occasion to be joyfully anticipated, celebrated, and embraced in its entirety. To introduce a negative consequence of having a baby might raise a few eyebrows, and no one wants to do that. But the truth is, having a baby changes everything, and mothers learn this quite quickly. It's even something Johnson & Johnson clearly advertises. Of course J & J shows the sweeter, gentler moments that babies fill in the lives of their parents, but the reality of a baby is far more complicated than a twenty-second commercial intended to entice its viewing public. Having a baby and caring for the child that he or she becomes is hard work and involves many tough moments. Unfortunately, mothers rarely talk about these tough times and in that tacit way become vulnerable to society's skewed perception that they have the "luxury" of staying home with their children as though it should be a welcomed situation that bears no burdens.

I've taken the time to speak with men, women, and mothers who work full-time outside the home, and it never ceases to amaze me when I hear comments that expose envy and mistaken ideals. Once I overheard a conversation my husband had with several acquaintances he knew from a theater group. He was asked if his wife worked. He answered, "Yes, she works full-time at home with our three children." Although I smiled upon hearing this because I knew I had duly influenced him over the years, I was nevertheless disheartened when I heard their responses. "Yes, but does she work?" Again my husband said, "Yes, at home." This went on for several minutes with my husband having to "defend" me. It was clear that their inquisition went beyond curiosity and toward a kind of resentment that is hard to put into words. I wanted to scream from the other room, "Yes, I !@#&*% work. In fact, I never not work. I move from chore to chore all day without a word of praise or gratitude. I work two twelve-hour shifts every day and eat my meals while standing and serving others. I receive no paycheck for my efforts or any medical benefits. I can never quit (or get fired!), call in sick, get a paid vacation, or receive a pension for the many years I devoted to my work. My work is tedious, demanding, and all-consuming, and yet others think nothing of judging me or criticizing me for doing what they could not (or do not) do." Needless to say, I felt angry and somewhat self-conscious, as though I should question what I was doing at home with my children. Given such subtle (and unfortunate) messages from society, mothers may ignore, deny, or stifle any feelings that reflect a personal crisis related to motherhood.

Mothers also obscure their feelings and symptoms by keeping busy with all the chores, distractions, and commitments that call them. While they answer the call of motherhood, they tend to miss the greater process unfolding within them; that is, the process of letting go of the women they were and a time that existed before they had children. This is a process that's imperative to attend; the process of letting go is a valid component of change. In some changes that occur in the first few years of motherhood, mothers can incorporate the old with the new. But in most instances, change means moving from one state of being to another or from one set of circumstances to another. Regardless of the kind of change, mothers must often let go of what was, even if temporarily. Letting go, by its very nature, suggests loss. So it should come as no surprise that mothers might feel a sense of loss for what they no longer have. "Having a baby changes everything." For indeed it does, as mothers know best. But what mothers may not know (understand or appreciate) is exactly how the changes in everything often involve loss and how loss affects their lives. Toward this end, I cite six major kinds of loss that generally occur over the course of a lifetime. But as I have discovered, these six kinds of loss also seem to occur simultaneously for many women during the first few years of motherhood, making grief a legitimate cause for consideration. I offer examples of each kind of loss from mothers I interviewed or from mothers who agreed to meet at my house as part of a focus group. These losses include material loss, relationship loss, intrapsychic loss, functional loss, role loss, and systemic loss.

Inside Chapter 3 …

How amazing to think that some mothers are grieving and don't know it. How amazing to talk about losing one's sense of self and yet not talk about grief. How amazing that I was grieving, a grief counselor, and didn't recognize it. Me, well versed in issues of loss and grief, a mother of three, a woman who considers herself aware and smart, married to an intelligent man who has several degrees himself, including one in psychotherapy. Here I was displaying classic signs of loss and never thought about grief as something I was experiencing relative to my role as a mother. I suppose I was simply trying to survive the onslaught of feelings, new routines, lack of sleep, and the temperamental ways of young children. My attention was so well diverted away from my feelings that I sank deeper into depression and anxiety without questioning their cause. Life with my young children demanded action, not thought. I mean, I would think about the best ways to discipline and entertain my children, how to answer their innumerable questions, how to care for them physically, emotionally, and mentally, and perhaps how to use my time most expeditiously, but I didn't ponder my feelings or the reasons for them. With young children in general, time moves in the urgent and immediate, and the pace is ever so challenging. When I did have a moment to be still and indulge a thought for my own, I daydreamed. There seemed to be no need to explore the feelings that I was trying to escape. The workload and drain of caring for my children seemed as great as the love I felt for them; conflicting feelings seemed inevitable and therefore acceptable. The reason sufficed. I was excited, happy, in love, busy, overcome, and captivated because I was a mother. And I was also sad, frustrated, angry, lonely, depressed, and anxious for the same exact reason.

Mothers of all backgrounds in every state around this country share common symptoms and similar experiences of motherhood, and still the connection to grief has not been made obvious to any degree that engenders recognition, acceptance, support, or healing. Symptoms, especially anxiety and depression, are often diagnosed as a medical condition that can be assuaged with the right prescription drugs; this may ease the symptoms but increase the risk of dependence. Further still, drugs are ineffective in actually healing any psychological effects of loss, should the issue of loss be relevant. Loss becomes relevant when mothers perceive the numerous changes in their self-esteem, appearance, marital satisfaction, financial status, sexuality, ambitions, etc., as damaging to their sense of self. Loss becomes relevant when mothers feel trapped and desperate, isolated and overwhelmed in a situation that has the power to strip them of self-worth. Loss becomes relevant when a woman's physical, cognitive, social, and emotional responses to motherhood impact her in such a way that she no longer feels familiar to herself. Under these circumstances, grief must be acknowledged and treated as a possible (and reasonable) cause for the various symptoms afflicting so many mothers.

Grief is not bias; it does not discriminate. Grief is not an illness or a disorder that has any psychological classification. Grief is not something to conceal, or avoid. Nor is grief a single state of being that can be clearly recognized from one moment to the next. Grief is a function of pain that descends and retreats, moving about as an active process, ever-changing and often camouflaged, but always persistent as an opportunity for growth despite ourselves. In grief we think, feel, and act in ways that are quite different from the ways in which we typically present. Coping skills deteriorate, moods fluctuate, and personalities are shaken. Grief distorts reality in those moments when it hits hard, making the "normal" seem unfamiliar. For mothers, personal and societal expectations and belief systems also factor largely in the experience of grief; that is, how a woman thinks a baby would affect her life, how she thinks she ought to behave and feel after having a baby, and how she thinks of her emotions and their social acceptability.

Inside Chapter 4…

Call it grief, call it anxiety, it doesn't really matter as long as we as a society recognize that something is happening to mothers everywhere. Mothers feel it and exhibit the signs and symptoms associated with it. Because the signs and symptoms tend to come and go, we don't usually consider grief as an explanation or a cause. However, when viewed in the context of grief, sporadic symptoms make perfect sense (see characteristics of grief in Chapter 3). What doesn't make sense is how grief has escaped the explanation of mothers' angst for so many years. Perhaps it's because society in general barely knows what to do with grief. The truth is, grief makes most people uncomfortable. They don't know what to say, and when they do say something, it is generally void of sound advice or insight. For example, how many of us have heard comments like "Time heals all wounds," "He lived a good life," "What doesn't break us only makes us stronger," or "You could always get another dog." Shamefully I admit that it was I who suggested another dog to a grieving acquaintance who had recently experienced the loss of her beloved pet. I couldn't believe the words came out of my mouth. I didn't intend to insult this woman or undermine her grief, but I did. So there you have it, grief counselors can say stupid things too in awkward and uncomfortable moments. Grief rattles most people, and unfortunately, most people want to sidestep the emotional upheaval of loss and disregard the simple empathy that grieving individuals seek after losing something of great value. Loss is not intended to elicit an intellectual response but rather an emotional response. Loss hurts and should be addressed in the emotional context in which it belongs, otherwise grieving individuals may deny, disguise, repress, or shortchange their grief.

Mothers tend to intellectualize their feelings. Not once in the time I spent with mothers did I hear the simple truth, "I miss my friends, I miss my waistline, I miss my sex life, I miss my freedom, and I miss my financial independence. I miss my self-esteem and my sense of worth. I miss these things and it hurts so gosh darn bad." My interviews reveal that mothers are more likely to say either directly or indirectly, "What's wrong with me?" This question addresses the intellect, as if seeking a rational answer to what is often an emotionally driven experience. Mothers rarely make a connection between their feelings and the occurrence of loss; far more often they connect the strain of motherhood with their emotional and physical state. In essence they deny their grief. They push their feelings away, develop symptoms, and maintain the busy schedules that keep them distant from the grief that may exist. Unfortunately, when mothers slight the enormous impact of motherhood and the changes that may be perceived as losses, they become vulnerable to many feelings—feelings that reflect anxiety. MIA identifies this anxiety as the culmination of the many symptoms associated with the grief in loss that goes unrecognized and unresolved.

Inside Chapter 5…

Debbie, a mother of two, shares this story:
It happened about a year ago. I was getting ready for a family outing. Although I was excited, I felt stressed to keep on schedule with the other members of my family, particularly my sister, who planned on leaving especially early. I remember racing through the house collecting toys for the car in one hand and juggling my five-month-old in the other hand. The clock was ticking, the baby needed changing, the car had to be packed, and my three-year-old son was demanding attention, begging to be picked up. He wanted juice, his truck, anything that would take me away from what I was trying to accomplish. And I had lots to accomplish. Like most moms, I had a mental checklist of things I wanted to bring and things I had to do before we left the house. [Checklists always take so long to complete, and this one was no exception.]

Debbie continues with the details:
I knew the tension was mounting, but I was still eager to keep on schedule. I put the baby down in the house and walked out to the car, closing the door behind me so that I could take a quiet moment to look at the car and pack what was necessary. I just wanted to get it done and get going. I left my son inside crying for me, but I wanted to go alone. Well, my son must have been writhing with frustration inside the house. He was alone with the baby and had never ever hurt the baby before so it never occurred to me that he might. But he did. He was hitting her or at least that is what it sounded like from her screaming. I ran into the house and stopped him before he seriously hurt her. He was completely out of control, as was I.

They were all out of control. Anger, fear, helplessness, and frustration had reached an unbearable height and it was being expressed uniquely by each of them. Within minutes, and still full of rage, Debbie grabbed her son and literally tossed him onto his bed. She confessed to hitting him while screaming, "Don't you ever hit the baby, not ever!" Debbie's fury not only blinded the irony of her actions (hitting her son while telling him "don't hit"), but it brought on the guilt that usually follows an incident like this. What's especially ironic is that Debbie felt more stressed out after hitting her son than she did before this incident, and her son was more desperate than ever for his mother's attention.

Through similar stories, enough mothers have supported my argument that a mother's mood invariably affects her children's mood, and ultimately their behavior. Children are remarkable in their ability to sense their mother's mood and internalize it. No matter what emotion a mother is feeling, a child can sense it and then reflect it back in subtle or demonstrative ways (e.g., biting, hitting, crying). As an experiment, notice your children's behavior when you're feeling anxious, depressed, angry, melancholy, or unresponsive. Notice the mood in the house, whether it's tense or loud, quiet or chaotic. Now make the conscious decision to put aside your stress and your negative mood. As hard as it is, change. Tell the kids that you don't want to be in a bad mood and then suggest going out to get an ice cream. Or walk into the room where the children are and play music. Take your child's hand and begin to dance with him or her. Chase your children and tickle them. Suggest they help you make dinner and have fun doing it. Involve them. In other words, make your children smile in any way that works. And then look again at your children's behavior. Notice the way they treat each other and you. Observe the changes in mood that occur in the house, the feeling in the air that I refer to as tone.

I have spent much time experimenting with tone and my ability to affect it, both at home and away from home. Often I have been in situations outside the home when I wanted or needed my children to be well behaved and cooperative, whether we were at someone else's house or a public event. Either scenario creates its share of stress for a parent because the pressure is on and others are watching. During these outings, I tend to be anxious right from the start. However, it's usually in one gesture or action that I reveal this anxiety. Perhaps it's in the subtle change in my breathing pattern or the tension in my hand as I wrap my fingers around someone's arm. Regardless of what it is, I know when my mood has been detected because my children begin to test my resolve. They push to see how loud I will get, how angry I will become in public. All the while, I'm smiling as my grip tightens. This little dance goes on for quite some time as the tone among us becomes more ugly and obvious. Since I am aware of tone, I understand that I could leave the situation as quickly as possible and sidestep tone altogether or I could stay and let go of the anxiety that's feeding my children.

Inside Chapter 6…

The first step in creating a boundary is to acknowledge the beliefs, thoughts, dreams, feelings, preferences, needs, experiences, activities, etc., that occupy your inner life, your private thoughts—the answers you established in the previous exercise. If you could not successfully answer the questions posed in that exercise and feel that you don't have enough insight into your values, you might consider meditation or prayer, keeping a journal, or talking to a trusted friend. Some women find mental health professionals especially effective in helping them access answers because therapists often employ experiential and structured techniques, such as hypnosis, psychodrama, storytelling, dream analysis, guided imagery, or other modalities that encourage feedback and insight into a client's inner (unconscious and subconscious) life.

Another way mothers may obtain insight into their values is by paying attention to those moments that spark intense (and usually negative) reactions, otherwise known in the world of psychotherapy as abreactions. You can think of an abreaction as an overreaction. An overreaction generally signals the anger, tension, and frustration one feels when one's needs/wants are not being met. For instance, I become ornery and very ugly right around 9 p.m. if my children are still awake. It's at that hour when I desperately desire to become Anne again, and do the things that Anne likes to do ALONE. Anyone standing in the way of that desire sees my wrath. So take notice, take notes, and be honest. There's an unfulfilled need or want that inspires your abreaction; maybe even a dream that was dashed or a goal that was subdued. Ask yourself, "What did I want that I didn't get?" You may have to dig deep or wait patiently, but the answer should emerge and provide a value. In my example, I wanted to be alone, which reflects my values of inner harmony, peace, and individuality.

In contrast, I have also realized some of my key values when a need or want was fulfilled. For instance, snuggling in bed with my husband on a wintry night satisfies my need for love, security, peace, and intimacy. Playing with my children grips my desire for fun, joy, and synergy. Writing promotes my sense of autonomy, creativity, and mastery. And dinner out with Danya integrates my values of friendship, humor, and understanding. Knowing what I value allows me to recognize when a value is being denied. So look twice at those moments when you lose your temper or when you retreat into martyrdom. Pay attention when you become aloof, detached, or even over-enmeshed. Identify your reactions to certain situations and become familiar with the ways in which you respond to having your boundaries violated so that you know exactly when it's happening. Once you have identified the ways in which you respond to having your boundaries violated (and the stimulus for that response), determine the irrational thinking that is typically associated with such reactions. Listen to what you are saying to yourself when you have a strong reaction (internally or externally) at a time when a need or want is being neglected, denied or ignored. You may be rationalizing the behaviors of others, rationalizing your own behavior, or worse still, shaming yourself.

Inside Chapter 7…

I have found over the years that oftentimes we are told what to do but not precisely how to do it. At least that was my dilemma as I struggled to find my way out of the crater of despair that had become my nesting spot. At the time, I read article after article looking for material that might suggest ways to help me adjust to a reality far different from anything I had ever known. I perused books on motherhood, childcare, and mental health (I thought I was going crazy), all in an attempt to "figure it out." I couldn't find one book, not one article, not one television show that comforted me with information that directly addressed all the feelings and thoughts I was having.

As I saw it, my "problem" was that I did not adopt a total posture of "mom" as soon as my baby was born. I mothered my daughter and cared for her in all the ways she needed as my love deepened, but in many ways, I remained postured as I had been prior to Leigh Ann's arrival. Subconsciously, I perceived myself to be the same person who was able to live the same kind of life in the same way. In short, I desired the impossible (e.g., former freedoms, relationships, autonomy, lifestyle) knowing full well it was an impossible reality given my new circumstances. It was a dissonance that lay dormant for years. In the meantime, I gave birth to Laura (sixteen months later) and Daniel, who came along three years after her. By this time I was deeply entrenched in the world of children and becoming more and more incapable of denying or ignoring my desire for the autonomy, self-confidence, self-esteem, and sense of self I once knew. I felt completely out of sync with a life rhythm I had always known and enjoyed, and this feeling was making me increasingly angry, depressed, and frustrated.

I lingered in grief for several years. Ironically, I wanted control in my life that allowed for the changes I wanted and the conditions I sought, yet I remained in the state of grief, which fostered my feelings of helplessness, anger, depression, and anxiety. As a therapist, I understood that emotions generally motivate people to take action; it just took me a long time to integrate the concept. Once I did, I used grief to motivate me to act. I became motivated to make the choices that were available to me so that I could develop a new life rhythm, so to speak. I aspired toward a rhythm that incorporated aspects of my former self that I valued while considering the fact that I was the mother of three adorably delightful but needy children. With the significance of harmony ever so present, I focused on what was possible and how I could make that happen; in other words, I recognized and embraced the fact that I was not choiceless; I was capable of making many choices that would affect me and my life in a positive way.

Inside Chapter 8…

When I became a mother, many of my former ways of living life were disrupted. Prior to children, I had come to know the world in a certain way, a way I experienced first as a child, then as an adolescent, next as a single adult, and finally as a married adult. In all that time, I developed ways of thinking and behaving that reflected what I had collectively learned from living in the world. But on July 28, 1996, the world I had come to know changed, and I knew instantly that it would never be the same. It seemed only appropriate that I would have to relearn the world, a world with different routines, habits, companions, timetables, priorities, goals, expectations, and behaviors. Relearning the world is serious business that requires women to learn how to be themselves in a world changed by motherhood. This business extends far beyond a mere cognitive understanding that the world has changed with the presence of children.

When women become mothers they sense that the world is different, and that's because the world is different. When women become mothers they are also perceived differently by others, whether they continue to work outside the home or not. Conversely, mothers perceive others differently based on how others relate to their lives as parents. A great shift takes place that causes mothers to see the world out of a new lens. This new lens tends to focus on life events and all the different things (and people) that may jeopardize their children's interests, comfort, safety, and health. In one interview, a mother expressed how she became more conscious of environmental issues such as pollution and global warming since they were likely to impact her children as they grew up. Another mother voiced sheepishly how she thinks less like the Democrat she once was and more like the Conservative she remembers of her own mother. In another interview a mother described how she became more grounded in her faith, and another how she became involved in community activities that had never before held interest for her. Women become different when a baby is placed at the forefront of their lives, and the differences vary greatly. What's common among mothers is that they all relearn the world; relearning the world is a multifaceted process and a whole-person experience. That is, women relearn the world from an emotional, psychological, physical, social, and spiritual perspective wherein they appropriate new understanding of the world changed by the children who enter their lives. They develop a new posture, a new orientation in the world as mother, caregiver, teacher, role model, negotiator, provider, mediator, and disciplinarian.