As a mother I think there is ALWAYS someone with a viewpoint of how to be the “perfect” mother. I feel like you are always faced with scrutiny in every little thing you do with children. I have been met with “oh you’re feeding formula. Didn’t you know that breast is the best?” Or “I can’t believe you’re just letting your child cry like that” when I have tried every possible thing apart from chloroform to get them to calm down.
I have managed to get bad depression with both of my children. I didn’t even know I was pregnant with my first until I was 24 weeks pregnant! He then decided to come at 36 weeks. When he was born I had it in my head that I WOULD breastfeed my baby. I had heard all about the bond it could create and well it’s what my body was designed for right? As it turns out my body couldn’t do it. It just didn’t produce any milk. I managed to get colostrum but just as that transitioned to milk it dried up. I was so upset about it. I had persevered for 2 weeks with my baby. Putting him on the boob every 2 hours (his feeding pattern) and then pumping while I was giving him a bottle when he became too agitated that there was nothing coming from breast. It hurt even more when judgemental mothers snobbed me off because I HAD to feed formula. I sunk so low and hated my body. It was useless. The same thing happened with youngest except I managed to breastfeed for 3 months but then nothing. This has pretty much been my feeling the whole time I’ve been a mother. Like I’m always useless and failing all the time.
I feel like we as mothers take on too much of the idea of what a perfect parent looks like. In reality there is no perfect parent and every mother, no matter how well put together the look, will always have a sense of feeling that they aren’t doing it perfectly. To me being a mum is having bags under my eyes. Having my house always in a mess because there is kids toys literally everywhere. It’s going days without a shower because I’m just too exhausted to care about my own personal hygiene. It’s giving up my dinner to my kids because they don’t want what they have, they want mummies food even though it’s pretty much the exact same. It’s going to bed and feeling like the whole world is against you and wanting to cry. It’s being at the brink of a meltdown just to have your child smile at you or say they love you that suddenly makes everything all better again. It’s the endless mental struggles and the pressure we put on to be “perfect”. That is what being a mum is
mummitment 