What I've learnt from being the first of my friends to have a baby
Rashida reflects on how she's found her rhythm as a mum
This week, my friend and filmmaker, Rashida Seriki is sharing her musings on motherhood for The Feels.
I found out I was pregnant at 22. I was at the screening of my first short film at The BFI (soon to receive an award) and after revealing to Liv that I thought I might be pregnant, she ran to Boots during one of the intervals and returned with a pregnancy test. And before we knew it, two lines showed up on the Clear Blue and we went back inside, as though nothing had changed, to watch the rest of the films,
The scattiness of this moment carried through the rest of my pregnancy. I was the first of my friends and cousins (I still am the only one) to have a child, so everything was ad-hoc, guesswork and learn as you go. My 18-year-old cousin went on and on about how necessary a baby shower was, practically forced me into it and then tried to stick me with the bill because, obvs she wouldn't have that disposable cash (my ex covered it in the end), and my labour story (which I won't share because it's the subject of my feature film) was a mess but also very funny in hindsight.
Post-labour, there have been times when I've felt resentful and overwhelmed with motherhood because I felt walled by how other mothers present their experiences of it. They've capitalised off it, or cry about how hard it is even though there's a constant grandparent in the back to help, or have friends frequently and discernibly present.
The fact is that whenever adverse feelings have hit about motherhood, the catalyst of outside interference has been the cause, not the reality of my experience. The hypervisibility of the next person's motherhood journey online was meddling with my feelings, even though it had nothing to do with the realities of my personal experience. I'd be at home angry about how little my friends were around or how my family didn't offer up every waking minute to assist me.
But it's only now that he's 4 and I'm 27 that I have any genuine interest in letting other people filter in and become a community for him or us as a now well-established pair. I enjoyed our isolation and that time to solidify the foundations of our relationship and the control to inculcate in him the things I believe to be right.
We all know how the internet preys on our vulnerabilities, and I thought I had a good grasp on not letting it until it came to being a parent. I saw what others had and went through and permitted it to influence my outlooks without acknowledging that what I see is only a fraction of what's going on there.
Even though I have spent most of my son's life raising him without the help of family and friends, it hasn't been tough. I associate tough with a feeling of exasperation, with the sense of feeling like 'rah, I really cannot'. I've never felt that way. In those toilets, when I found out, there wasn't a shred of doubt in my mind or heart. I was going to become a mother. I wanted him – well, I wanted a 'her', but you get what you get. And since his arrival, life has had its challenges, but he's a reasonable guy (the best guy, actually).
As I write and meditate on the journey so far, I didn't have the baby who incessantly cried or woke up five times during the night. He's yet to exhaust me. The 'terrible-twos' was entertaining and fascinating, not terrible. This isn't to boast, it's just the understanding that I did it because I was ready and wanted to, and struggle isn't a default part of the narrative. I savour the learning that comes with being his mother. I adore the sense of contribution to other people's laughter; I enjoy the feeling of contributing to my world.
I think it's important to consider when it comes to all the different things we go through, how do I feel about this internally, selfishly, or innately vs how do I feel about this in contrast to other visible examples that show but a fraction of what's really going on there? This is all a long-winded way of the age-old saying; mind your business and you'll be happier. My friend gave me the opportunity to write about motherhood and when I assess it in its silo, just the kid and me, I now fully recognise that it's been sick.
Love this! It really resonates with me, thank you for writing this Rashida
love!