I experienced pregnancy several years ago, and within just five weeks, I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, which leads to intense nausea and vomiting. This condition persisted throughout my entire pregnancy, making that year feel like one of the hardest times in my life. Now, looking back, I realize that feeling better was a major reason I was able to truly enjoy my child’s first year.
After my baby was born, I found myself drawn to the Charli XCX song “I Think About It Ally The Ally” and various social media posts discussing the anxieties of motherhood. Recently returning to work has made me feel a deep longing for my kids; it’s been tough since she arrived. Some friends of mine, including Chappel Lawn, shared similar feelings—none seemed happy during this adjustment.
Artists, in many respects, delve into and express emotions for a living. I don’t think it’s quite fair to criticize them for how they portray their feelings. But these moments in pop culture have prompted me to reflect more deeply on both my own experiences and those of others.
In early 2020, I attended a camping trip for a friend’s 30th birthday. Honestly, I wasn’t really eager to go camping, but I wanted to support my friends. We swam in the River Wye and stayed up making a bonfire. I was just starting an education degree, and experienced teachers in the group shared games they’d play with students, making me envision a similar future. We even joked about living in a commune.
At that time, my mental health was declining, worsened by the lockdowns in Melbourne due to the pandemic. During particularly hard days, I would spend time listening to guided meditations, trying to focus on my breath and drift off to sleep. I often pictured the rocks by the River Wye, imagining myself as one of them, as the water flowed past. I felt like I was part of the river.
Fast forward five years—many friends and family members have passed away or welcomed new children. I got married, while some of my friends experienced divorce. I embarked on a new career and embraced parenthood.
Becoming a parent has been the most transformative experience of my life, though it’s also very common. I feel like I’m the same person, but I’m not. My body has changed, and my mind has shifted, yet these changes have not been solely mine. I’ve cried out of joy and grief—over my C-section, at a friend’s funeral, and pondered how her partner will cope with such a deep loss.
The love I feel for my children astounds me. It’s like my capacity to love has expanded, even if my mind hasn’t grown as much as perhaps I would have liked. I consider myself fortunate to have such experiences, reminiscing about dancing outdoors at my first concert in New York City with my best friend two decades ago.
However, it’s essential to note that the first year of my child’s life was incredibly challenging. I’m not suggesting that I didn’t need to visualize that river rock multiple times a day just to cope. It’s not fair to put all my struggles solely on my rocky pregnancy experience. Instead, I feel grateful for the rocks in the river, remembering those camping moments that still resonate with me. Life before and after hitting the 30 mark, before significant losses and loves, before and after having children.
The love I hold for my kids feels unparalleled. It also reminds me of all that I’ve felt before. It changed me, like stepping out of my house for the first time on my own, or my first love. Like living with my best friend, these moments are significant, similar to the times my husband was accepted by other mothers, as we both went through the emotional rollercoaster of parenthood.
Motherhood can be overlooked by those who haven’t experienced it or endured significant challenges. I recognize that my access to family support and parental leave made it possible for me to immerse myself in motherhood the way I have. It’s unfair to suggest that life lacks meaning without children, or to downplay the values of those choices.
I’m not expressing these thoughts to do any of that. Rather, I aim to convey how astounding my love for my baby is, as it feels like it has unlocked another level of love inside me. This new love isn’t necessarily pure or sacred, similar to the love I had for my childhood best friend, or my parents, or my husband. It’s different, yet oddly familiar. I’m not who I was, but I’m still fundamentally the same.
