Why Is Motherhood So Lonely?
As printed in My Village News September 2019
Years ago, before I was a mother or even close to marriage, a friend of mine who was on the cusp of having her first baby told me a secret her mum had shared with her, “Motherhood was the loneliest time of my life,” she said.
The thought horrified me then and it makes my stomach drop with heavy dread now because I know it to be true.
For a few months I’ve ruminated over the loneliness of new parenthood and grappled with how to write about it. I don’t want to spark self-pity I just want to connect with parents who have also found the first 12 or so months of their new bub’s life to be particularly isolating. So I started talking about it and found, from new mothers to almost 100 year old great grandmothers, whenever I shared my feelings each would nod in deep understanding.
My Granny, who is proudly still in command of her mind and body at the age of 98, was kindly vulnerable about this topic with me recently. During her first pregnancy she and my grandfather were living in Malta. Giving birth on that Mediterranean Island in the 1950s was different than her native Britain and far different than Australia today. When Granny went into labour she was taken to a solitary hospital ward and left to her own devices, save for a nurse popping her head in every few hours, while she carried on a 48 hour labour. My grandfather wasn’t even allowed to visit until the baby was born. She would wander the halls to be closer to the other wing housing local Maltese women and be soothed by their pain-filled screams, comforted they were going through what she was.
A friend of mine who lives in Melbourne says she’s stopped going to hipster cafes (a difficult feat in that trendy city) because she finds the mum and dad delis friendlier. Proprietors will prepare your coffee with a smile, serve your sandwich with a chat. These interactions become treasured when sometimes you haven’t had an adult conversation in days.
She’s also stopped using self serve checkouts at the supermarket just to facilitate friendliness and conversations into her day. Her beautiful boy is now 15 months old and she says the last year has given her a glimpse into how the elderly and homeless must feel - ignored and rushed by as the rest of the world keeps spinning.
As for me, well I’ve certainly lost friends. More than I can count. It’s my fault, I willingly grabbed the oars and paddled out to this desert island of motherhood myself. Instead of making Matilda fit my life, I fit hers. Now I’m trying to figure out where to start in piecing it back together.
