Becoming a mother starts with a series of questions, the first of which is often, “Is that really a ‘positive’??” The questions that accompany pregnancy are often fun, sometimes daunting, but often so clear: “Do we find out the sex of the baby?” “Do I get the epidural?” “Cloth or disposable diapers?” There is a plethora of advice and innumerable opinions - and with the advice and the opinions, an exponentially greater amount of criticism and condemnation. The self-doubt that comes from this is crushing in those early hours, days, weeks, months of motherhood. And then often, unless we choose to continue to engage in advice-seeking (damn those Facebook groups!), things become quiet. And we are left with time and the scary realization that we still don’t have it all figured out.

Me for instance.

It’s Sunday afternoon and my husband and oldest daughter have just left for the beach. I helped them pack, I waved good-bye as they pulled away, and then I sobbed.

It is the extended-family vacation that takes place in July each year for the past four years. And I’m not going for the second year in a row. Last year it made sense; my youngest daughter was 4 months old and I would essentially be trapped in a two-room hotel room in order to adhere to her nap schedule. This year, though, I had been excited to make the trip as a family of four.

But this year, I’m not welcome.

I have been pushing my husband away for years. And I don’t even know when it began or why, but I know he’s been trying so hard. But I was immune to his pain until it became mine. When I’m in a moment, I tend not to “see the forest for the trees”, an expression I didn’t even truly understand until I used it to explain my irrational behavior on an unrelated matter to a boss a few years back. I become fixated on small things as a way to avoid big things, and this past June, the big things bubbled to the surface. I tried so hard to be the person I thought I was supposed to be that I hid myself from him, and the hiding became my pattern. And because I couldn’t fix the frustration and anger and unhappiness that was just under the surface within me, I tried to fix all the things around me... and I became mean. And the things I criticized him most for were the things I despise most in myself.

I look at my beautiful baby girl through the monitor and conjure up the image of her radiant smile.

How does someone go from that level of utter perfection - clean and pure and with so much joy and potential - to becoming someone who hurts those that they love? What sorts of things need to happen to a person to get them there? How did I end up alone at my kitchen counter while half my family vacations without me? How do I, as a mother, keep my girls happy, and radiant, and open to love when all of my own decisions have robbed me of each of those things? These were not the questions in my mind when I, alone in my bathroom, first viewed each of their “positive” lines.

I am alone once more, lost in the realization that as much as I want my children to love me, I would never want them to become me. That instead of trying to change and mold them, it would best serve them if I change myself for the better in order to give them someone worthy of becoming. And how can one rectify that as a mother? How can I help these girls when at a loss for how to help myself? There don’t seem to be Facebook mom groups for this stuff.

Instead, there’s Bloom Mom Tribe, a place where I can share my sadness, but also my journey. This is the first in a series of blogs I’ll be writing for myself, but for you as well, because maybe we all need each other a bit.

There are many moments of my days that make me smile, as I’m sure there are for many moms. But often, as our own harshest critics, we stifle our doubts and our sadnesses and stuff them down for fear of seeming ungrateful for all we have. And so that’s where I am. And here’s where it brought me. And maybe it’s not exactly where everyone else is, but I’m pretty sure our paths have overlapped at points. So as I navigate the path from being a married mother of two to a soon-to-be-divorced mother of two, join me... and maybe you’ll catch glimpses of yourself from time to time.

Or maybe not?... but it might make you feel better about not cleaning up the playroom tonight!