Did I give birth?

It's an odd question with a fourteen-month-old toddler attached to my hip, but it's a question I actually asked a handful of fellow mamas a few weeks ago after this conversation with a friend:

Me - (responding to sexist comments a mutual friend was sharing) Well, only women can give birth.
Her - Not all women can give birth. Some women have to have a C-section.
Me - (confused) I had a C-section.
Her - Yeah so you don't know what it feels like to give birth.
Me - What? No. I gave birth to Max.
Her - No. You had to have someone cut you open and take him out of you.
Me - Because I wouldn't dilate.
Her - Exactly. You don't know what it feels like to give birth.
Me - (not knowing what to say) So what did I do?
Her - You carried him...
Me - We are never going to agree on this.

Before I continue, I feel it necessary to tell you that this fellow mama is a really good friend; we've known each other for nearly two decades. If I'd had the conversation with someone I didn't know or even an acquaintance, I would've dismissed it as a difference in opinion and not thought twice about it. Because of our history, I haven't been able to let the conversation go. I also want to clarify that had she said I didn't know what it felt like to have a vaginal birth, I would've agreed in a heartbeat. Because that is a fact.

When I asked a handful of fellow mamas if they thought I'd given birth to my son the following day, my question was met with confusion. After explaining why I'd asked, every single one of them validated my birthing experience. I wish I could say I didn't need them to but, if I'm being honest, at least a part of me did; having a C-section was a last resort for me and I was disappointed that I wouldn't be pushing Max out once I made the decision. Thankfully, I was reminded by my sister and a dear friend that my job was to go home with my new family and that having a C-section was my birthing experience before I had the surgery. I'm fairly certain, my friend knew this, which makes me wonder why she'd say it out loud. To me... or any woman but I digress.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a to-each-her-own type of person. I like to think that we're all doing the best we can in life and believe that people are inherently good. Don't get me wrong. I understand that there are people who are not nice, who are greedy, who take advantage of other people, who do awful things, who are assholes for no reason. I don't like those people and don't invite them in my life but also wonder what happened in their lives for them to fear being nicer, being generous, treating others as their equal, doing good, choosing to be kind.

I don't understand it when people are rude, mean or feel entitled to judge other people's choices. That's really it. What's with the judgement? In general but especially among women. More specifically among mothers.

Honestly, I think it's great when moms go above and beyond with all organic, well-balanced meals, regular playdates, fun activities outside the house, no screen time, strict nap and bed times and a million other things I do not do. I admire these mothers for their diligence (and truly wish I could be more like them) but am equally in awe of and applaud mothers like me, who do organic when they can, are happy when their toddler eats more than five bites at mealtimes, get playdates in when they can, mostly stay home playing with their child, use screen time while cutting nails or to use the bathroom, have nap times that fluctuate and bed time that is generally at the same time and a million other things I do that aren't by the book.

I've read the books (and the blogs, forums and websites) and appreciate the studies and information so easily available to me, but at the end of the day, Max is my baby. Fraser and I know him better than any parenting expert or opinionated non-parent we know. It's really interesting that friends without children tend to have more opinions than those raising tiny humans... because other parents know. They know about the never-ending choices you have to make as soon as you find out you are with child. They've heard the unsolicited advise and listened to strangers' opinions, smiling and nodding all the while imagining how this person would be without a full night's sleep for over a calendar year.

What I'm trying to say is SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Unless I ask your opinion (and I won't because I reserve my questions about parenting for non-judging mamas who are also raising tiny humans), I don't need or want to hear what you think about Max's sleep schedule or whether or not he needs his diaper changed (he likes to poop in clean diapers and needs a few minutes to do his business). Stop wrapping your judgements in thinly-veiled shows of concern. There's no need for you to be concerned about my child's comfort, safety or well-being because, trust me, I spend every second of my waking hours telling my psyche to not worry about every little thing because I do. All the time.

Every mother does.

If you're so concerned about my child, then take him for a few minutes and play with him. Make him laugh. Tell him a story. Show him something new. Teach him a song... Have compassion for his sleep deprived mother, who is doing the best she can and is probably moments away from losing her shit. Again.

I am doing the best I can.

I've actually written that down numerous times to remind myself because I am my own worst critic. I regularly question my choices and my ability as a mother; I don't need anyone to join in. Being a parent is overwhelming enough.

The conversation that inspired this post still baffles me. While my friend is certainly entitled to her opinion, I don't know why she felt the need to tell me what she did. She's a sweet soul and wouldn't hurt me on purpose, so what was her intention? Why make the distinction?

Are women who need fertility treatments less than because they can't get pregnant naturally? No.
Are women who give birth prematurely less than because they didn't make it to full term? No way.
Are women who adopt less than because they didn't carry their child? Absolutely not.

The path to motherhood is as varied as it is beautiful. While painful and not at all easy, giving birth is nothing compared to the daily challenges and elations of raising a child. It is the ultimate marathon of unconditional love and constant care that is easier in some ways and harder in others at every turn. Being humbled by motherhood is universal. The self-doubt I wrestle with and difficulties I face as a mother is not unique. My experience as a mother is as valid as anyone's, including the amazing day I gave birth to Max.

Oh, Motherhood. How you humble me.

It's my first Mother's Day.

Max woke up before six, found his way into my shirt to nurse and wanted to play after. We finally got up when his diaper leaked and decided to have breakfast at home before going to the beach, which is my only request for the day. By the time we finished eating and I was getting ready to write in my journal while enjoying a mug of coffee, Max was ready for a nap.

I've been in blissful silence, drinking hot coffee and writing, while Max naps with Fraser.

Now that I'm a year into this gig (Max will be one in nine days!), I'm finally starting to have a grasp on this whole motherhood thing, which is easily the most humbling experience of my life. It is all consuming and full of challenges but also incredibly fulfilling and, at times, pure joy (whenever he laughs, gives me a hug, tries something new and loves whatever it is, smiles when he sees me, sleeps… Max being here is pure joy).

Bells and I were talking about motherhood a few weeks ago and agreed that we both have a modern take on the whole experience because, while we are deeply committed to the happiness and well-being of our children, we are also committed to our personal happiness and well-being. In short, we are women with goals and dreams beyond our children, which is tricky especially when your child is barely one.

Last month, I managed to spend fifty hours in an intermediate reformer course for Pilates in the midst of momming, putting a show together with the non-profit I run with fellow artists, a part time receptionist job and running our household because I wanted to do something that was just mine. Though just mine is relative because, eventually, teaching Pilates will mean making more money in less time at the studio. It was a long month and we had a lot of help (my mom came and stayed with us for two weeks; friends babysat Max for us; we had his nanny come on Saturdays), but we got through it... and it felt great. Once it was over, it felt great; going through it, I felt like I was hanging on by a thread.

To say that motherhood is about balancing it all at once is misleading. No woman can be totally present at home, in her career, for herself, and everything and everyone else in her life all the time, at the same time. Something has to give otherwise she will break... I've never had anything close to an anxiety attack before I became a mom; I described not being able to catch my breath, my heart racing, due to a sudden fear something I couldn't put into words to Fraser recently. He said it sounded like an anxiety attack; I can't be sure but, whatever it was, it sucked. Thankfully, I knew enough to quiet my mind and mindfully breathe. Phew!

During my very busy month, I only worked out a handful of times, went on one date with Fraser (our first in many months), and did not have a single audition, which all sucks but I don't feel bad about it... It can't feel bad about it because, well, I don't have time to; there's a diaper to change, food to prepare and nursing to be done... And I only have one baby!!!

I used to see twins, triplets and other multiples and think, How cute! It must be so much fun to have all those babies in matching outfits!! Now I see them in photos, news clips and social media and feel overwhelmed for their parents, who have multiple diapers to change at once, various taste palettes to appease... I don't even want to think about nursing multiples; it's a full time job with one.

We are fortunate that my job allows me to be home with Max most of the time and only hire a nanny when I'm teaching 8-10 weeks in the spring and again in the fall. The owners at the studio a I work at part time, welcome him to go to work with me. It's a wonderful set up aside of the fact that it doesn't give me a break from momming.

Nursing is something I wasn't sure I could do because neither of my sisters produced much milk. Thankfully, I broke the mold and am still nursing Max. My goal was always a year and, as his birthday approaches, I am both sad and excited about weaning him. I had no idea how much nursing would mean to me as a mother; it really is a special bond beyond the womb. That said, while Max doesn't bite (he started getting teeth at four months and I trained him then that biting me meant no more milk for him), he now casually slides his hands down my shirt whenever I'm holding him, going as far as pulling my shirt down and sticking his face inside when he wants to nurse.

Even if he wasn't doing any of that, I'm just about ready to move on from nursing; it takes a lot of time and I'm ready to have my body back as my own. I've felt guilty just thinking that before, but I need my body back. I need to read books and articles other that baby/child development/parenting ones. I need to spend alone time with my husband. I need to breathe... I need time away from being mom to be a better, more effective mama to Max.

Using the bathroom alone is a luxury, especially now that Max is full on walking. I've held him while on the toilet many times but, a few weeks ago, took the experience up a notch and nursed him there. I sent texts to my mama tribe about it and the response was a unanimous, Been there. Not one them even batted an eye because motherhood is an equalizer of women. When Max is crying because he's hungry, my instinct is to pick him up and nurse him: in the middle of a coffee shop, behind the desk at the studio I work at, in the car (after I've pulled over safely), and, yes, while sitting on my toilet at home.

I've wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. I am delighted to finally be one. That said, I had no idea how much I would miss the freedom of randomly going out for dinner with Fraser, meeting friends for a hike or coffee at the last minute, taking a yoga class whenever I wanted to, reading a good book in one sitting or washing my hair more than once a week.

Max is a dream come true, one that's required a transition nothing else in life could've prepared me for and it's important for me to recognize that it's okay for me to say it's hard, ask for a break or go to another room for a minute. Because motherhood is fucking hard and I need breaks and silence... Among the moments of delicious laughter, fun games and absolute privilege of watching Max discover, learn and grow, are moments of utter frustration, boredom, loneliness and misunderstandings with Fraser, who is going through a transition of his own.

And they're up... Time for the beach.

It'll be Max's first time walking on sand and feeling the ocean at his feet. I'll have Fraser take photos of us and put them on social media with a link to this post because we have to keep it real, mamas. For the sake of our collective sanity, let's support each other and our individual choices in this beautiful journey called motherhood.

Gotta nurse the babe before we go.

Happy Mama Day, Beauties!!!