The Joys, and Struggles, of Motherhood

MIND

Nov 7

Babies are true miracles. Becoming a mother is often one of the most joyous times in a woman’s life and motherhood is a time like no other… and this time can also be extremely stressful.

It was after the birth of my fourth child within six years that I encountered depression for the first time in my life.

I remember feeling suddenly overwhelmed with the job of motherhood and having four babies in such a short amount of time I was struggling to keep up with the physical demands of caring for small children, much less the emotional demands of motherhood in general. And let’s face it, I was now significantly outnumbered! After a few months of deepening sadness, I called my midwife looking for some help.

I will never forget what she told me…

She knew I was a runner in college and had been running before and even during all of my pregnancies. She asked me if I was exercising, specifically if I was running. I told her no. I thought to myself that I did not have time. I was still nursing for heaven’s sake! How could I run?

She laid out my options. She said to me, “you have two choices. I can put you on an antidepressant or you can start running”.

I was a bit defensive in my response thinking to myself she must not understand that I DO NOT HAVE ANY TIME! I also knew deep down I missed running and my stubbornness came through with my determination that I would indeed “try to run”, and if I saw no change in a few weeks I was to call her back and we would start medication. I knew I would call her back. I thought she did not understand how difficult this was going to be.

But the very next morning, after my son’s feeding at 5am, I laced up my shoes and headed out the door.

It was still dark when I left the house and I remember thinking… “What am I doing out here in the dark?”. I decided to not actually run but just go for a walk. But my walk turned into a trot and my trot into a jog and then I WAS RUNNING!

I weaved in and out of the subdivision in the darkness wondering if I was the only crazy person running in the dark. I saw other runners. I saw people walking dogs. I did not feel alone out there running by myself. I watched the sun rise. When I came to a stop, I realized I was out of breath. I was …. I was, JOYOUS.

I cried on that first run because I needed the emotional release. I cried and I ran. And every time this happened, I regained a part of my soul.

Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

I did this every morning for two weeks. As soon as I fed my child, I slipped out the door for 45 minutes of solitude, running. I would return a sweaty mess, exhausted but at the same time exhilarated. I started to feel my joy return. I felt ready for the day's challenges of being a mom. I greeted my waking kids with smiles and love instead of fatigue and resentments. In short, running saved me. It saved us all.

I never called my midwife back.

There was no need. I had rediscovered myself. The anxiety and depression that once clouded my days was lifted. I was happier, yes, but I handled the stress of motherhood better too. I was lighter and not as easy to upset. I felt more balanced and able to remain more flexible for schedule interruptions which always seem to happen with small children and babies. But that was ok. It was ok because I had restored my emotional reserves.

Running was filling me up where the demands of the day were a constant stream of love and patience pouring out of me.

It is said you cannot give from an empty cup.

What I never knew until then was that running was not just a way to stay fit. It was a way to stay happy. It was my medicine. It was my self-care. It filled my cup. And even if I must get up an hour earlier if life is particularly busy, I never miss my morning workouts now. It is as vital as food and water for my body. It feeds my soul, nourishes my spirit, grounds me, centers me and allows me to give to myself first thing every day so I can do what I love most, giving to others.