Dear Motherhood,

First let me apologize for taking so long to welcome you into my life.  While I tried to be as polite and courteous to you as I could, I’m pretty sure you felt my resistance and outright hatred towards you.

It’s not your fault, you see, I had a great life before you.  I was free to do as I pleased.  I was aware, alert and conscious of all the art and culture around me.  I enjoyed my city and explored events, films, music and restaurants freely.  I took impromptu walks along the seawall that ended with impromptu drinks by the water followed by impromptu get togethers with friends.  I took advantage of the Pacific Northwest lifestyle with ski trips to Whistler and surf trips to Oregon.  I sought after work that introduced me to smart, creative people who in turn introduced me to even better events, films, music and restaurants.  J and I traveled all over the world exploring unknown places.  Socializing was not only a skill, it was a way of life and trying new experiences was the goal.

Then I met you.

I met you and and suddenly I couldn’t string a sentence together.  My hair turned perma-greasy, my pants all became elastic waisted, the baby weight did not go away, socializing became an exhausting and occasionally boring task and the world seemed to spin at an alarming pace as things passing me by.

I tried to stay afloat.  I tried to stay present and not dominate conversations with twin, breastfeeding or sleep training talk.

I mocked your “play dates” and early bedtimes.

I judged and laughed at your struggles.

I tried to outsmart you by searching for answers, tricks and tips online that would make me the ultimate mother.

I doubted your power.  I thought I could hide you in my pocket on Friday nights and go on as usual, but you always reappeared Saturday mornings… early and often with two crying babies.

I tried not to let you affect me but it only disconnected me from the reality that was my new life.  A life I believed left no room for spontaneity started presenting daily challenges making “impromptu” the name of the game.  A life where late nights turned into wasted days and I quickly realized that days spent with the twins were too precious to waste.  I even discovered that the sun still sets every day in this new life and walks along the beach are just as enjoyable with a stroller – who knew.

In this new life staying afloat comes from talking about any and everything with people who could share their experiences offering me real connections.

Mocking your ways blew up in my face when I realized play dates take many forms, including happy hours on the beach.

My judgmental jokes aren’t as funny to the women who wear motherhood like a Medal of Honour.  They are mothers I admire who have proved that this is an earned rank.

Thinking I can outsmart you means rejecting an existing community; a community built over years of experience that isn’t trying to compete with me but rather help me transition.

Doubting your power means I can’t tap into it.  I have all of the tools, I’ve gained the experience, but I was holding on to the way things were as opposed to seeing that I control the universe for 2 little people and I get to lay the foundation of how things CAN be.

So I think I get it now… I am ready to welcome you into my life.   I welcome you and all of your life lessons and challenges.  I welcome your new experiences and unique situations. Bring on your fellow supporters and lifelong mockers.  I am thankful for your insight and I am ready to embrace you… minus the elastic waist pants, extra 15 pounds and greasy hair – please take those back.


Kendahl “a motherfucking mother” Cardinal







4 thoughts on “Dear Motherhood,

  1. Pingback: What being a parent has taught me that therapy (and Lady Gaga) couldn’t… | MIGRATING CARDINALS

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