Self Doubt - Am I doing enough?

In my younger years I was a force to be reckoned with. I pretty much thought I could do anything, be anything, I could learn anything I needed to. I had so much confidence in myself and my abilities. And then something happened. The exact moment self-doubt started to creep into my life, I cannot tell. I believe it was a combination of my stroke/brain surgery experience and the struggle of being a new mom.

Both experiences exposed my flaws and shattered the perfectionist I had created. For so long my identity was centered around being perfect, or as close to perfect as I could be. I didn’t allow myself room for mistakes, and I often placed these very high expectations on others not even realizing it.  I judged other people on a high level because I used the same standards to judge myself. This served me well in my younger years, even up to 30. I received praise, promotions and my achiever competitiveness soaked it all in.

The problem with this is--I started to equate my self-worth with perfection. Even little mistakes at work ate-away at me. I would over analyze things and quite frankly beat myself up about them. After brain surgery when my memory wasn’t as great, I got a little harder on myself. I was determined to overcome my stroke and brain surgery and not let it define me--so much so that I tried to prevent any mistakes from happening. I was high-strung trying to achieve this level of perfect.  

Fast forward to giving birth. I knew that I was going to be a perfect mom. I was going to breast-feed for a year. I was never going to have the TV on. I would make my own organic baby food. I read all the books. I was prepared. And then I actually had a baby…two weeks early. One thing did go as planned. All my working out paid off, and I pushed Mia out in 6 pushes.

And then none of it really went the way that I thought. Mia had an infection soon after being born which meant giving her antibiotics early on. That’s when the crying started. She never latched, which meant I had to pump, and the glorious images of me at peace breastfeeding never materialized. I killed myself to wake-up before she did so I could pump and give her breast milk. At most I maybe got 2 hours of consecutive sleep. She was also a horrible sleeper--and we tried every conceivable thing to help her sleep more & cry less. (you are probably wondering, oh I wondered if they tried _____yes we tried that too). The crying continued. I devoured all blogs, books, AAP websites, and I grew irritated with the well meaning suggestions of others. Baby-wearing was a big thing at the time. Not for Mia. Nope. Mia hated to face inward in a carrier. We tried at least 5 different carriers, and she disliked them all. 

The images I had of myself strolling the streets with her swaddled to my chest and stopping to feed her with ease were crushed. This was not the picture of postpartum I had imagined. I was SUPPOSED TO be the carefree picture of new motherhood bliss. All the things I had envisioned didn’t come to pass. I felt defeated.       I was good at all things dammit, why didn't this going easily and naturally the way it seemed to be for others???

When I went back to work, Mia was still not a good sleeper. I was tired. My work no longer defined my life. I wasn’t perfect at home, and I wasn’t perfect in my job. Who was I then? I let self-doubt creep into my life all around. I started to let these “mistakes” define who I was. I saw myself as broken somehow because it turned out I wasn’t as perfect as I thought I was. At least that is what I saw at first.

It has taken a while (almost 3 years), but I’m starting to see the lessons in it all. Perfection is not obtainable.  Defining ourselves that way is impossible and holding others to that standard is not fair either. Having standards and goals to reach for are wonderful, but they alone do not define a person. How someone handles stumbles, how many times they get back up and learn from their mistakes—that is what defines true character.

And through it all, I have learned grace and humility. I have learned that I need to ask for help, and that doesn’t mean that I am weak. It means that I know my own limits--that I can trust others enough to rely on them for support. Most importantly, I can teach my daughter to be kind to herself and that the goal in life is not perfection.