Being a mother

After having lunch with an old high school friend, I decided I have some things that must be explained for my own peace of mind:

It's not that I don't like being a mother. It's not that I don't love my children (or my husband for that matter!) It's that it just doesn't fit with my emotional psyche. Should someone who faints at the sight of blood become a medical surgeon? Should someone who is afraid of heights become an airplane pilot? My emotional psyche can't find rewards in being a mother. It just might be impossible! If for one second I were to acknowledge a job well done, or that I did something right for a change, it only takes another nanosecond for me to remember all the things I have done wrong and will still do wrong. I can't stop worrying about whether I am doing the wrong things and what consequences my decisions and actions will bring. Is there something I could have done differently so that Blake wouldn't have such aggression for Maxwell? Could I have done something differently to prevent Maxwell from thinking that hitting is a form of playing? I know I can't change anything in the past, only the present and future; but the problems that I face (possibly because of something I did wrong in the past) are so frustrating. So frustrating, in fact, that it seems that there is no solution, no way to make these things better.

Identity Theft has a new definition: pregnancy and nursing. I eat, sleep, drink and feel not for myself, but for the baby. While there might not be anything wrong with that (I mean, what would the world be like if we didn't have that nurturing instinct for our children,) it leaves me feeling like I have no idea who I am. All I know is how to clean. And cook. And change diapers. All I talk about is my child(ren), or parent stuff, or other things I would never thought I would talk about with other people. I plan around nap times and "will my children actually be able to sit through that?" I measure every appointment and outing: are they too tired; will this stress me out so much I struggle to control my temper; will there be a place to change a diaper; are there breakable things, etc. In the end, I find I have lost my goals, my dreams, my hopes in a pile of dirty diapers, mounds of toys, heaps of dishes and loads of laundry.

If I leave my children to have "adult time," am I inadvertently telling my children I don't love them? Am I abandoning them when they need me? Will this result in consequences too severe for me to even consider? Yes, I have guilt. To top off all of the above, I am constantly filled with guilt. Do I do enough? Am I providing them with the things they need (beside food, shelter and clothing?) If I did more, would things be better? If I cleaned less and played more, would my children benefit? If I cleaned more and played less, would they suffer? Are the punishments we dole out too severe, do they help to make the poor behavior better? Or do they just create more problems? Questions, questions, guilt, loss of identity, questions and more questions, helplessness...........

With that said, how does one find joy, fulfillment and reward in being a stay-at-home mother? Is it that I don't want to be a mother, or is it that I just don't have the emotional tools necessary to get the job done and feel fulfillment by doing so?