When my daughter was a baby I started a blog.
Like many moms, I felt lonely and isolated and needed a place to put my feelings into words; a place to connect with others feeling the same way.
My blog was unique - it was a commentary about our life but written from my baby's perspective, rather than my own.
To protect our identity (as was standard practice back in 2008), I gave everyone pseudonyms. My baby daughter, the "author" became "BlogBaby" and I was "BabyMama".
I wrote nearly every day for the better part of four years. Writing from the perspective and tone of a baby stretched my writing and creativity skills. It satiated my creative urges for a while. I loved connecting with mothers from all over the world and formed kindred friendships that still exist to this day.
Reflecting on my experience as a blogger has helped me realize a few not-so-great things about myself, though.
I realized that blogging, for me, was about hiding.
I had subconsciously set up my blog like a front for my chaotic reality (nothing to see in back officer).
By writing from my baby daughter's perspective, I could let her be the focus. I hid behind her happy baby cheeks. And I wasn't very happy.
There was more to me than being a "BabyMama", but by blogging from the perspective of my baby, I could protect myself from letting others into my vulnerable truth.
Behind the scenes, I was losing the battle to depression and my family was in shambles.
I was too afraid to write the truth and I had pigeon-holed myself in with my “BlogBaby” concept. I felt like I couldn't honour the other parts of who I was.
The whole me. The messy me and the version that existed beyond motherhood.
It is so easy for mothers to hide behind our kids.
We deflect, gushing over little Susie's successes at ballet instead of disclosing how we are really doing.
We let the focus be on their accomplishments, their needs; all under the guise of "putting the kids first".
We post every.single.thing.our.kids.do.or.say on Facebook but curate what we show of ourselves.
We push them in front of us in photos to hide our never-quite-right bodies.
And why? Why do we do this?
We do it because it is easier.
We let ourselves become invisible because sometimes we want to be invisible, Fighting the feelings that lead us to that dark place can seem like an emotional mountain too steep to climb.
Whether we are fighting a mental illness (or two), or are burned out by your life - hiding can feel like the only safe option we have.
Some days we feel like we aren’t enough.
Other days, we are overwhelmed at how much of us there actually is. Have we always been this much? This EXTRA? Have we always taken up this much space in the world?
Invisibility seems preferable to people looking directly at every insecurity we have. Preferable to being wholly seen in our imperfect fulness.
Being a mother is hard. It is a sacred gift that most of us don't feel qualified to get. We must be, either, brave or crazy to allow children the power to define or destroy us.
But bravery isn't about having no fear.
Bravery is facing our positively-certain-we-are-not-enough voice in our minds and pushing it back into the dark pit over and over again. Brave is in the battle.
It's stepping out from behind our kids and participating in our messy lives.
It's saying, "I am not too much and I am not lacking. I am enough exactly as I am."
Letting your children know that you value yourself is a life-changing lesson for them. It ensures that the children you raise will become adults with the confidence to put themselves out there, too. They won't hide but will embrace their own imperfections when those not-enough or way-too-much voices push themselves into their minds, one day.
When we, as women, make ourselves smaller (or more invisible) pushing the world's attention onto our kids, we diminish the world they live in.
We strip it of vital, whole and complicated female role models. We allow mothers to become background props, caricatures and stereotypes. We create a world in which women are defined by their challenges, rather than their accomplishments.
We also make it even harder for other mothers to come out of hiding. We add to the collective shame and guilt mothers feel when they declare themselves to be whole even when they don't present the perfect picture of motherhood.
Own the space you take up in the world. Every beautiful/chaotic/brave/resilient inch of you.