I was talking with a friend the other day about her first year and a half as a mother.  It’s been a mixed bag for her.

Many of the stories she shared brought a smile to both our faces—quiet moments spent readying the nursery, her memory of her child’s first steps, the joyful reaction and support of family and friends during the birth.

But my friend also admitted to me that there has been a dark side to the first year.

She has felt judged and isolated, uncertain and fearful, and competitive with her friends who are also new moms.

Some new parents will be glad to tell you about their parenting hardships, if you ask.  But few will bring it up on their own, and even fewer give themselves permission to ask for help.

Talking about the hardships of parenthood in some circles seems forbidden, as if having complaints or grief or longing for your life before parenthood makes you less than.  Many people shy away from those conversations, sending the message that they are uncomfortable with anything other than happy news and sweet photos.

It seems to suggest that while we are supposed to have heaps of compassion for our children as they grow and change, but we aren’t allowed the same courtesy.  But I can think of few learning curves as steep or journeys as animated as one into mother- or fatherhood.

I wish we allowed ourselves a little more room with the process.

My friend’s secret loneliness

By all points of reckoning, my friend had every reason to be grateful—she had an uneventful pregnancy, a safe and rapid delivery, and a very healthy baby boy.

When I thought of her pregnancy, I recalled the baby showers leading up to her son’s arrival, and the clamor and support from her friends.

I thought of how close her family was and how eager to help they were.

I thought of covered casseroles and cloth-covered photo albums, of play-dates with neighborhood moms who always seemed ready with a cup of coffee and a smile.

A year later, she let me in on her secret.

She told me that she had spent lots of time and tears managing complicated family politics about visitation, negotiating who would be present at the birth, and trying to smooth over hurt feelings as she tried to set these careful limits.

She talked about the struggles she had at work negotiating her maternity leave around big projects and a pressuring boss.

Her run-ins with the parent police both during her pregnancy and afterwards in the grocery store, as she was making a midnight run for diapers.

Her struggles with her body image after the baby was born.

My friend was especially embarrassed to admit that she often feels in competition with other moms—that the drawback to having a shared community of moms for support was the common tendency for folks to share and compare everything from birth stories to milestones.

With recommendations for the latest products and remedies for diaper rash came also a litany of stories, advice and examples.  It left my friend looking at what other moms were doing with their children and their time and wondering if she was doing enough.

The pieces of our struggle

The transition to parenthood is a deeply personal and private journey.  And yet somehow, it is also a hugely public one.  So I can understand my friend’s desire for privacy—her need to struggle quietly with these pieces.

But I was sad that there wasn’t a gentle, public place to receive some of her struggle.  And, my friend felt quite lonely in her experience at times.

“No one really talks much about how hard it is,” she said.

“It doesn’t seem to come up, and everyone seems to be sailing serenely through their lives as new moms… but I’m finding it really hard.  Everyone expects me to be so happy, I don’t have the heart to tell them that at times I’m really tired and frustrated.”

I don’t know if this happy-go-lucky attitude is just a part of the play groups and moms in her neighborhood, or if it’s something more widespread.  But you can bet that being surrounded by seemingly perfect moms who get it all done made her feel pretty bad about herself sometimes.

“Well, maybe she needs to hang out with other people!” you say.  Or, “She needs to appreciate herself more, she’s doing a fine job!”

Maybe so.

But I wonder, do her friends know about how she is really feeling?  Because I surely didn’t.

I wonder what would happen if someone were brave enough when asked,

“How are things going?”

to actually answer with a fresh, honest reply,

“Y’know, things have been hard lately…”

I bet a much better conversation would come of it.  And this is true for us all—moms or not.