On Motherhood & Mental Health
why being a stay-at-home mom is hard as hell
Kelsey Merritt
Yesterday, my son threw a type 3 tantrum in the parking lot of the grocery store. Screaming, limbs locked, holding on to the cart like his life depended on it, while I tried to get him into his car seat.
Connor, my 4-year-old, was wearing a not-so-subtle, massive, black cowboy hat while throwing down the protest of his life as people walking by turned to look at us, and one older man sitting against the side of the grocery store had even stopped licking his ice cream cone to watch.
I won’t lie when I say there was a moment when I considered walking away to sit in the air conditioning of my car to pretend he wasn’t mine. There was also a moment when I realized why my mother used to twist the baby hairs at the back of our neck when we weren’t behaving in public. And there was another profound moment when I considered throwing myself onto the scorching asphalt to scream too.
My son doesn’t usually throw tantrums. In fact, there have been very few times in public when I have been mortified by his behavior (save the one time he pointed to an elderly woman in a store and excitedly exclaimed, “Mom! Look! She’s having a baby!!!”— luckily, she laughed). But, I stood, in the 94° parking lot, holding my child around his stomach while his knuckles turned white as they held the grocery cart and continued to let out the most pathetic whine/scream/cry this side of a faked professional male soccer injury.
His tantrum today? Because he didn’t want to leave the grocery cart at the store.
. . .
I became my son’s mother almost a year-and-a-half ago by swiping right on Jesse’s Tinder profile. Jesse was a single dad, new to the dating game after having been left by his ex-wife. I was a grad student with a dog and many fewer responsibilities than a toddler.
I finished my final year of graduate school while simultaneously learning how to be a mom. I taught writing courses and took classes three days a week, and watched Connor the other two days while I read students’ papers and wrote my own. I held his head while he puked, slept with him when he had yet another ear infection, cleaned up after him when he decided super glue on his carpet would be a really good idea, gently tossed him into the swimming instructor’s arms when he didn’t want to jump into the pool, and spent five hours sewing him a stuffed animal fox because I refused to pay $48 for the one he wanted on Amazon.
Becoming a mom was difficult, but Connor is worth it. It was even more difficult after graduation, when Jesse and I decided it would be a good time for me to stay at home with Connor for the summer while I looked for work and before he started preschool in the fall. And, I’m privileged to know we were financially able for me to do so.
What I didn’t anticipate during these past months was the profound sense of isolation that consumed me. I didn’t understand how tired you could feel after a day of tantrums and hands all over your face and legs, the multiple times you pick up toys and messes and it still looks like a bomb went off when Dad walks in the door, and the way your ability to converse changes when 90% of your day is spent speaking to a 4-year-old and explaining that garbage just shouldn’t be shoved in heating vents.
Before long, I forgot what I was good at. I forgot that I was an individual outside of being a mother who has hobbies and passions and likes to go to the grocery store by herself. I struggled getting out of bed when Connor woke up in the morning, then struggled feeling guilty that Jesse was already gone and at work by the time I woke up. I beat myself up when I didn’t have supper ready on time, and I cried when I didn’t have the energy to cook at all.
If you’ve never stayed home with kids for at least a consecutive week, you’re probably thinking: “What makes this so hard?” And it’s hard to understand if you’ve never done it. But, I invite you to try:
As a Stay-at-Home Mom (SAHM), I have no time to myself and struggle to hold my own identity outside of “mom.” Every moment of every day is spent with Connor in my proximity. He’s supposed to be fed healthy foods, dressed in clean clothes, bathed semi-regularly, only have so much screen time, understand morals, be engaged in pre-K activities, clean up when asked, say please and thank you, pronounce his “r’s” with clear enunciation, know how to spell and write his name, understand how to play nicely with others, and he never shuts up. My child can talk from 8am to 8pm without pause, except for nap time. And nap time? Well, shit, mama. That’s the only time you actually get any of the things done you needed to do for the day. Because don’t forget about the laundry, cleaning the house, the bills, the errands, the home projects, the phone calls to doctors and preschools and your own mom, when you ask, “how am I supposed to keep doing this?”
Being a Stay-at-Home Mom is hard as hell. There. I said it. We live in a society that tells us a parent should stay home with their children if they are financially able. Women are told we should enjoy it and that we should think of how good it is for the kids. But, we often forget to check in on Mom and see if it’s good for her, too.
With 1 in 4 Americans living with a mental illness (CDC) and 1 in 5 parents staying at home with their children (Pew Research Center) we have created an environment for mothers to suffer in silence with yesterday’s cereal stuck in their hair while they cry on the floor of their bathroom as their toddler screams at them from outside of the door because they didn’t want that episode of the Magic School Bus. But, the truth is, with the presence of community on social media platforms and the resources available on the internet-at-large, us moms need to band together under the shared realization that our jobs as SAHMs aren’t always Pinterest crafts and bonding moments. We have the ability and the means to support one another and we should!
As a Montana woman living with mental illness myself, I understand all too well the pressures that becoming a mom hold. We live in a culture that stigmatizes mental health, but even more so stigmatizes mothers with mental illnesses. The misconception about parents with mental illness is that we aren’t capable. And I’m going to call that what it is: bullshit.
Despite my off-days, my down-days, and my bad-days, I’m a damn good mother. If my illnesses have taught me anything, they have only taught me to be a kinder human. I’m kinder to my son on his off-days when he’s not listening and feeling grumpy and doesn’t know what he wants. I’m understanding when he has a down-day and he’s sad and upset and doesn’t know why. And I’m loving on the bad-days because I know what it means to feel out-of-control and out-of-sorts.
Together, Connor and I have learned the power of the snack, nap, and re-attack. Along with Jesse, we are always growing, learning, stumbling, and trying.
I always knew parents took all forms, but I didn’t expect to be one of the parents who used a different mold. I didn’t give birth to Connor. I didn’t watch him take his first steps. I didn’t hear him call me “Ma-Ma” as a first word. But, I did get to hear him call me “Mom” for the first time. And, holy crap, is that coolest feeling in the world.
I’m here to tell you that you aren’t alone. I’m here to tell you that taking the risk to be open and vulnerable about your mental health as a mother and parent is brave and bold and healthy and wonderful. I’m here to validate you in saying: It’s okay to not be okay. I’m here to remind you that being a mom is hard as hell, and being a SAHM is no damn joke.
I’m here to raise my hand and say that after I finally got Connor disconnected from that stupid grocery cart and into the car and home and in bed for a nap...
I took a shower and cried while listening to Beyoncé. And that’s okay, too.
Kelsey Weyerbacher is a writer, fabric artist, and mental health advocate who stays at home with her son in Belgrade, Montana. You can join her SAHM conversation on Instagram: @kweyerbacher
