I see myself in many of the illustrations I create about mothers, because, in truth, they are about me. They reflect my story, my vulnerabilities, and what I've lived through. Back then, during those first two years, I had no time at all to write about it; they were trial-by-fire years.
They say it takes a whole village to raise a child. But what do you do when there's no village and it's just the three of you?
One of the biggest shocks for me as a new mother was discovering that even though you're holding such a fragile newborn in your arms, you're expected to get an enormous amount done. Except… it just isn't possible. You and your baby are both vulnerable. The little one needs constant care and attention, but why does no one talk about how much a mother also needs to be cared for?
I often felt like a child raising a child. I was 26, not exactly that young, and I had some knowledge and resources in education and parenting, yet I felt just as vulnerable as Roua. I, too, needed to be fed, to sleep, to shower, to cry. The house was a disaster, I was at rock bottom emotionally, and I cried every chance I got. Sometimes we cried together. I think I cried almost every day for the first six months, because that was how my body regulated itself. I was living through an avalanche of overwhelming emotions.
Dad's role was vital, and Andrei was the most hands-on father, but after the first month it was mostly just the two of us, day after day, until his workday was over. I counted the minutes until he got home, but he wasn't coming home rested either. He had sleepless nights too, and during the day he worked to provide for us. At the time, though, I didn't see it that way, and the exhaustion led to plenty of fights.
Maybe some babies sleep a lot. Roua wasn't one of them. She slept the bare minimum, waking up and crying often. It was hard. Damn hard. And I kept wondering why mothers don't complain more often.
I went back to therapy because I felt I couldn't work through all my blocks on my own. I knew I needed balance, for myself, for my family, for my child. And slowly, step by step, we got back on our feet. The nights stopped feeling quite so long, and the hard parts stopped feeling quite so hard.
If you're going through something similar right now, I want you to know this: things fall into place. It will get better. I understand you, and I'm sending you my warmest thoughts. 🌿
