“The pressure to be a perfect mother is a recipe for resentment. Just be a real one.” –Brené Brown
My Interpretation: They can keep their unsolicited opinions & their passive-aggressive advice. I am not trying to win “Mother of the Year.” I am trying to raise a good human – while keeping my own damn sanity intact.
Series 3 – Post 1: Motherhood & Madness
But Also Shower? But Also Function?
Because sure.
• The dishes ferment in the sink
• My boobs are leaking through three layers
• My hair smells like sadness
• My animals need to be taken care of
• & I have not felt like a person in six days
Let me tell you something no one likes to admit:
“Sleep when the baby sleeps” is one of the most condescending, contradictory, guilt-laced pieces of bullshit advice ever given to a new mother.
Answer texts from people who say, “Let me know if you need anything,” but never actually show up?
What about grieving the life you had before, for even a minute,
without someone making you feel like a bad mom for missing your own damn freedom?
They say motherhood is a gift.
& it is.
But they also say you should enjoy every moment-
even the ones that break you open at 3 a.m.
while rocking a baby who. will. not. stop. crying.
You do not enjoy those moments.
You endure them.
& that does not make you a bad mom.
That makes you honest.
When I had Rowan, the “advice” came rolling in before the placenta had even cooled:
• “Sleep when the baby sleeps.”
• “You need to breastfeed – it is bonding.”
• “Do not spoil him.”
• “Do not let him cry too long.”
• “He should be in your room.”
• “Why are you waking him?”
• “He is too young for a schedule.”
• “You are doing too much.”
• “You are doing too little.”
It was loud.
But I did not listen.
I had a c-section.
Cade was back to work two days later.
There I was-stapled together & sleep-deprived-
doing it alone with a newborn,
two dogs,
a cat,
& a recovery that hurt in ways no one prepares you for.
But I had a plan.
Rowan would be formula-fed.
I decided that the moment I saw the pregnancy test.
I did not want the pressure of supply issues, cluster feeding, or nipple trauma.
I had heard the stories.
I did not want it.
Period.
I told my doctor from day one:
Similac Pro Advance. That is what he is getting. No arguments.
To his credit? He made the note & moved on.
The nurses, though?
You would think I said I was feeding him battery acid.
I did not care.
I was formula-fed.
I had colic.
& guess what?
I am still hilarious & thriving.
Rowan slept across the house in his own room.
Once I was off the couch, that is where he stayed.
He had:
- An Owlet sock.
- A camera
- A feeding & sleeping schedule
He was:
- Safe
- Fed
- Thriving
But apparently I was:
- “cold.”
- A “drill sergeant.”
- Too structured.
- Too intense.
Because God forbid a mother actually have a plan.
I did not warm up bottles.
I served cold formula to avoid wasting it.
I did not stay out past 4:30 p.m.
because the bedtime routine started at 6:30.
I protected his rhythm
even when it meant sacrificing mine.
I was “no fun.”
“Too rigid.”
Apparently ruining the experience.
You know what Rowan had in his crib before age one?
A breathable pillow.
GASP.
I know.
Hold your pearls.
Guess I will meet you in hell-
bring your pitchforks & pamphlets.
Everyone wants to debate what is right & wrong in parenting.
But let us be real-
it is the same as tying your damn shoes.
& unless your method is actively harmful,
can we all just mind our own business
& stop treating parenting like it is a competitive sport?
Here is what worked for me:
• Formula
• A crib across the house
• Cold bottles
• Schedules
• Boundaries
• Discipline without violence
• Gentle parenting when possible
• Structure & logic, paired with love & grace
You know what happened?
Rowan does not obsess over candy, because he was allowed to explore it.
He prefers fruit & veggies.
He does not pull tails, because he was raised around animals with respect.
He hands me weeds & flowers like they are currency
& tapes them to my book wall.
He gave me his fishing trophy
because he said the book wall is where things go
when they matter most.
That kid?
Is joy.
& I raised him my way.
Am I a perfect mom?
Hell no.
Not even close.
But I am his mom.
& I show up.
I adapt.
I try.
& when he is a teenager
& forgets how to be gentle?
That 50/50 gentle parenting split might become 25/75.
Still no violence.
But that version of me who does not flinch
will step in.
Because no son of mine
is going to grow up thinking emotional abuse or manipulation
is a joke.
Not on my watch.
Here is a truth to remind yourself:
You are not failing.
You are not too sensitive.
You are not dramatic.
You are not lazy.
You are not broken.
You are tired.
You are stretched.
You are human.
& you are doing the most important job in the world
while people act like its unpaid babysitting.
You do not owe anyone a smile
when your hair is matted
& your nipples feel like glass shards.
You do not have to love every moment.
You just must keep showing up.
& you are.
Even when no one is clapping.
Even when no one sees it.
My truth:
So, no-
I did not sleep when the baby slept.
I showered.
I cried.
& honestly?
That made me a better mom
than pretending I was fine.
I fought off judgment with one hand
& fed my baby with the other.
& I would do it all again.
xoxo ♡
Whisper to the ghosts. Yell into the void. Just don’t be an asshole.