I Totally Remember Life Before Kids and it was Glorious

You’ve probably seen a post like this somewhere on social media. Maybe it’s a birthday or anniversary or old Facebook memory that popped up and someone is reminiscing about their children. They will say something like “I can’t remember life before my child” or “I can’t imagine life without my kids.” Super sweet, right? Real talk, I vividly remember life before my daughter.  

I woke up, put on professional clothes and makeup and did my hair. I went to work where I interacted with adults who spoke (mostly) coherent English all day. I drank hot coffee and ate my snacks and lunch and no one made me share. I went to the gym after work and my only concern was whether my spot at the front of the group fitness room would be taken and what BodyPump release we would be doing. I came home to my sweet husband who was usually in the middle of making dinner for us. (Oh, the glory days when I wasn’t responsible for all our meals.) I’d take a leisurely shower and then join him on the couch to eat and no one threw any food at me. We’d watch our favorite shows or pick a new movie to watch. Then we’d head off to bed where we’d read a book or play a quick game on our phones to settle in for the night. On weekends, we’d go on dates. DATES. Remember those? It’s when you leave your house with your spouse for several hours and just go have fun. We’d eat in any restaurant that we wanted, not just the ones we knew had clean-ish high chairs and enough noise to mask our child screaming for more carbs (so, basically… Chick-Fil-A). Our lives were so easy.

On the Saturday morning when the kid is up at 5:30 screaming for milk and cuddles, I definitely remember. When I’ve reheated my coffee for the 5th time and my daughter is hanging off my leg because she wants me to read The Poky Little Puppy for the 8th time, I remember. When the toddler dictator is teething, refusing to nap, and whining in discomfort all day, I remember. When I’m starting to be able to smell myself and trying to think back to when I last showered, I remember. When I’m thinking through my grocery list and planning errands for the day, I remember how easy it was to walk out the door at a moment’s notice and run all my errands in a single outing without listening to Baby Shark on repeat. (In case you’re wondering, the distance from our house to Tiger Town is exactly 4.5 Baby Sharks.) Dates are now rare and much more expensive. Add at least $30 to whatever dinner and a movie or bowling costs. When our friends spontaneously decide to do something fun past 7 p.m., we have to politely decline. No way we can find a babysitter that fast.

But it doesn’t matter that I can remember life before her because I love my daughter more than that life. I would make the decision to have her all over again. Even knowing how hard and painful my postpartum recovery would be, and that I would end up on medication and in therapy for Postpartum Depression, I would do it again. While my life before her was easy and fun, it lacked purpose. My heart knew that someone was missing. So even though I can remember the fun trips and dates and carefree weekends and adult interaction and extra money we had and sleep we got, I wouldn’t trade my daughter for any of it. 

I know some moms who LOVE everything about being a mom. They embrace all the messy moments and hard nights and ooze thankfulness through it all. I’m very grateful for those moms in my life because they give me perspective, and their love for their role is infectious. But when I see those social media posts, I can’t help but think to myself, “Really? You don’t remember at all?” I wonder if it’s true or if it’s something we reflexively say like any other platitude. I wonder if it’s because we think we’re not supposed to imagine life without our kids or remember the good things about life before them. Now that we’re moms, anything that could be remotely interpreted as not wanting to be a mom is taken as a sign of moral failing. “You’re a mom and you better love every bit of it!” But that’s crap. It’s okay if you don’t like parts of being a mom. Its okay if you remember the fun parts of life before motherhood. It’s okay if you sometimes wish you had the pre-kid freedom. That doesn’t make your love for your children any less real, and it doesn’t mean that you would trade your life for someone else’s even if you could. I remember life before kids, it’s okay if you do too.