Imposter Syndrome

The last couple of years of the before were filled with challenges, frustrations, and pure, unbridled joy. I had an early miscarriage nearly a day to the year before we found out we would lose Ava. I felt hot, searing anger during my miscarriage and it left me bitter for weeks, if not months. I decided to take a leap and change careers in the aftermath of that loss. To be fair, I had started the process of entering a new career as I had went back to school that spring, but this loss made me desperate to get out.

I was lucky enough to land a great job in accounting without having to wait until I graduated, as I had originally planned. I was thankful for the fresh start, but I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t deserve the job. I felt like an imposter that was faking it to make it, but… What if I didn’t make it?

I discovered through a friend that the imposter syndrome is a real thing that many adults suffer with. We feel like we aren’t like the adulty adults. It’s common in people who get that first promotion to a supervisory role and feel like they are faking their ability to be in charge of others and make those important decisions.

Now here I am facing my first mother’s day. And that imposter syndrome is flaring up again. I’m a mother, but where is my baby? I want to be acknowledged, but I want to hide in a hole. I’m a mother, but I don’t feel like a real mother. I don’t soothe a crying baby at all hours of the night, I don’t worry about daycare schedules, I don’t have to schedule baby checkups and stick to a schedule.

I don’t feel like a real mother. Mother’s day is a happy celebration for mothers, but it’s not for me. I hold a tiny urn when I’m especially sad. I cry myself to sleep. I constantly wish my baby could have been for keeps. I drive past the daycare she would have gone to and cry on my lunch breaks.

I don’t fit in with the moms with all their living children. I don’t fit in with the moms who have lost a child but have others because I don’t have any living babies of my own. I don’t fit in with the women struggling with miscarriage or infertility because I know what it feels like to have a life growing and wiggling inside.

I don’t fit. I’m just an imposter on this mother’s day. Acknowledge me and Ava, but leave me out of the celebrations; I will be in a hole until the imposter syndrome feeling passes.

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