Before I became pregnant, I used to fantasise about the kind of mother I would be. I used to look at other mothers and think, ‘I will be better than that’ or ‘I will never do that’. I used to judge them – their actions and their decisions. And I thought that this was okay. I thought it was okay to self-righteously criticise women I knew and women I didn’t know at all. I thought it was okay to scrutinise their behaviour when I knew absolutely nothing about their lives or their circumstances.
But this is not okay. And the irony of it all is that now that I’m a mother, I feel like I’m being judged in everything that I do… I guess that’s my comeuppance.
Before I became pregnant, I had already decided that I wouldn’t drink a drop of alcohol during my pregnancy, I would eat the healthiest foods, and take all the pregnancy supplements. I would meditate every day and practice yoga five times a week. Then I became pregnant. And shit got real. I ate whatever I could hold down without vomiting. I never went to yoga. I watched TV instead of meditating. I didn’t take any supplements except folic acid, and I didn’t remember to take it every day. I developed a sweet tooth and ate far too many sweet treats. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I drank a glass of wine every now and then and it was fucking awesome. I swore I’d never microwave expressed breast-milk. I swore I’d only use cloth nappies. I was going to diligently fill out every detail in my son’s baby book. He was only going to wear gender-neutral clothing, and have gender-neutral toys. I was going to have a perfect home birth. The list goes on…
I think it’s worth acknowledging my privilege here too. I’m lucky enough that I can afford to be somewhat picky about what clothes my son wears. And that I had access to medical services of a decent standard when my home birth didn’t go as planned I had hoped. I’m lucky enough to not have to go back to work immediately, and that I have a wonderful support network of family and friends. I’m thankful for so much.
My son is now three months old. And being a mother is amazing. But it is also not amazing sometimes. It’s rewarding and fun, but it’s also challenging and tiring. And it’s difficult enough without trying to be perfect. And its’ difficult enough without other people expecting you to be perfect. Now I realise this. And so I apologise to all those mothers that I judged. I have no doubt now that you were doing the very best that you could. And in the context of parenthood, I think that is perfection.
Every single pregnant woman out there should read this brilliant piece..and the key to all of it ….is when it dont turn out the way you planned is not to be to hard on yourself..the reality of motherhood can be a far cry from your expectations..great write..ELiza Keating
Thank you Eliza!
I had thought that I was pretty relaxed about how I would parent, and then it turned out that I had all sorts of expectations that got utterly confounded by the reality. From the occasional small glass of wine to using the microwave to heat milk to buying the most gorgeous little dresses for my girls. But nearly 13 years later… the girls and I both seem to be fine.
Probably you are a perfect mother. It’s just that perfection in motherhood isn’t to do with following every little rule.
And being a mother is amazing. But it is also not amazing sometimes. It’s rewarding and fun, but it’s also challenging and tiring.
Yes!