Mother’s day is a perfect time to reflect on motherhood — appreciating having a world-class mom as a role model, enjoying the friendship of other inspiring mothers, and processing my personal experience raising a precocious little girl. My path into motherhood was planned and fairly typical (meet person, marry person, have baby), but life over the six years since she was born has been extra-ordinary.
My mother is as close to a perfect mom as I can imagine — loving, intelligent, capable. Both of my parents are incredible, but my mom was the glue that held our crazy 6-person household together. She kept us all healthy, happy, and thriving while somehow not losing her sanity. Among many other traits, I have her to thank for my passion of delicious, wholesome food, and for my stubborn insistence that I can do whatever I set my mind to doing (although she can share or avoid responsibility for that quality with my dad). She was there when my siblings and I needed her with support, compassion, and occasionally, some tough love. But above all, my mom was, and still is, present.
Presence is a unifying characteristic of all the incredible parents I know. Presence isn’t a trait, it’s a skill that’s learned, practiced, and honed. More than simply physical proximity, it’s mental and emotional availability. It’s the ability to sit, play, laugh, cry, embrace, engage, explain, discuss, and sometimes knuckle-through all that raising a child brings.
I felt intensely present during the first few days and weeks as a new mother. But as weeks turned to months, my presence started to fade. I felt isolated and alone, unable to understand or soothe my colicky baby — sleeping on the living room couch or her bedroom floor, rocking and swinging her in her carseat at all hours of the night, taking her on endless long walks, runs, and hikes (being outdoors pacified her). I felt like nothing I tried worked and with each passing day, I became more depleted. We had no family nearby, no close friends with kids, and the situation exposed giant crevasses in my marriage. Strangely, I wasn’t depressed, just overwhelmed and confused. Why couldn’t I figure this motherhood thing out? Overwhelm wasn’t a feeling I was used to, so I assumed I wasn’t using the right formula for parenting (or marriage). I figured I needed to work harder and be grateful. I should appreciate the great life I had — a beautiful little girl, a comfortable home, a marriage, a solid career.
When Ella was three months old, I went back to work full-time and continued my master’s program, functioning on some sort of new-mom adrenaline high. Although my workplace was far from flawless, I’d always enjoyed most of what I did and the people I worked with. A couple of months after returning from maternity leave, I was promoted and given a raise. I enjoyed the veneer of success, but being a professional working mom, grad-student, and wife, wore me threadbare.
Then, just after Ella turned six-months old, she was injured while at daycare — an enormous third-degree pressure burn on the top of her head. The gruesome injury took nearly six months to heal. We’re only now, five years later, beginning to treat the scar — a large bald patch amidst her beautiful curls — along with the excruciating memories. Under all the stress, my marriage continued to crumble and conditions at work deteriorated. While trying to cope, my ability to be a present and engaged parent slipped further away.
I never had a rock-bottom moment, just a gradual decent into the bleakest, most challenging period of my life. After I finally started clawing myself out of that sunken place, so I could grow into the person I want to be and the mother that Ella needs, I stumbled upon minimalism. Although I didn’t leap onto the minimalism band-wagon per se, many of its concepts resonated and as I rebuilt my life and my capacity to be a mother, I’ve continued to employ the less is more philosophy. Since that time, minimalism has helped us make and keep our lives simple, focusing on what’s most important — each other — and living an authentic, healthy, loving, and connected life.
Although evolving into a great mom is a circuitous process, I work to uphold a standard: mental, physical, and spiritual presence — a beautiful gift for both of us.