My three cherished dolls, Lily, Max, and Sophie, currently reside in a box at the back of my closet. Allow me to clarify: these dolls are part of the extensive collection I began at the tender age of four when I received my first Cabbage Patch Doll, Sophie Marie. Though her head has become somewhat detached over the years, she remains a fabulous relic of my childhood. In my mind, I was the mother to all my dolls.
So, why are these treasured dolls confined to a closet? The answer lies with my actual children. My five-year-old son, who made a face at Sophie upon first meeting her, and my two-year-old, who would relish the chance to dismantle her, have made it clear that my dolls are not part of their world.
I lovingly maintained my dolls, eagerly awaiting the day my own daughter would play with them. My mother promised to gift me a beautiful trunk to preserve their condition for my little girl. I always envisioned having a daughter; I have a sister with whom I share a close bond, as well as a brother, to whom I’m also very close, despite his childhood antics that involved Sophie.
As a teenager and young adult, I envisioned motherhood filled with moments of my “mini-me” playing with my old dolls and singing show tunes, which I adored. However, when I discovered my second child was another boy, I had to completely rethink what motherhood would be like for me. I wouldn’t have a daughter who mirrored my looks and interests. I held out hope that my sons might enjoy my dolls, as I fully support the idea of children engaging with toys outside traditional gender norms; alas, my attempts to introduce them to Sophie ended with my son blowing raspberries at her.
In my role as a clinical psychologist, I often guide mothers in recalibrating their expectations. I specialize in cognitive-behavioral therapy for anxiety, and I frequently hear mothers express anxiety when their children don’t align with their preconceived notions. For every mother who sees her child as a mini-version of herself, there are many more wondering, “Where did this child come from?”
Expectations about motherhood often lean toward the idealistic—thoughts of endless joy, cuddles, and the perfect nesting experience. Yet, based on both my encounters with clients and my own journey, motherhood rarely unfolds as anticipated. You might have imagined yourself as a stay-at-home parent only to find fulfillment in work, or perhaps you assumed your partner would share the parenting load more evenly than they do. You may even have gone from desiring a large family to realizing that one child is enough once you understand the challenges of parenting.
I frequently encourage mothers to let go of the romanticized notions of motherhood and embrace their actual experiences. It’s crucial to adjust expectations to align with the realities you face, whether it’s the true nature of your child or the dynamics of your relationship with your partner. Clinging to an idealized version of motherhood can hinder your ability to parent effectively and care for yourself.
As for me, I’ve shifted my focus from the American Girl catalog to the Bruder truck catalog. I can identify construction vehicles from a distance and can name nearly every character from Sodor. It’s safe to say I’ve adapted. My dolls remain in their boxes, only making appearances for fellow collectors, while my older son runs around the house belting out lines from “Hamilton.” He may be a boy, but bits of me are clearly woven into his character.
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In summary, motherhood can often diverge from our expectations. Embracing the reality of our experiences, rather than the idealized versions, allows us to navigate the complexities of parenting more effectively.