Musings of a mum- 10 years in
My daughter turned ten this year, just a few months following my 40th birthday. Both milestone birthdays which I knew were coming, and now they’ve been and gone its left me wondering why I was so apprehensive. Life goes on just the same, really.
Being a mum has always been first on my list in life, and I appreciate every day that I have been lucky enough to have two children. An entire career based on the wellbeing of children and families, the social and environmental circumstances that surround them, as well as working in maternal mental health has made me reflect on the privilege of being a mother. I never take this for granted, even when I thought I wasn’t doing the job as well as I thought I should. I doubt there’s a mother on Earth who hasn’t experienced some parental guilt.
Working in maternal mental health I see a lot of trauma and loss, but even when circumstances are difficult I also see a lot of growth - and, of course, the positive gratitude of people going on to have healthy pregnancies. When there has been a struggle to have children there is sometimes an expectation that everything must be perfect, and there can be a lot of guilt when things don’t go to plan. There’s certainly a mistaken belief that every moment must be enjoyed- and a sense of failure if it isn’t. Getting trapped in this kind of thinking keeps people stuck, and often in a vicious cycle of self-criticism.
As a child, I liked to circle pictures of prams, car seats and other baby paraphernalia, while browsing store catalogues. I wondered what it would be like one day to have my own baby. In secondary school, my classmates decorated the inner lids of their desks with pictures of boy bands. I preferred cut outs of cute babies. (This did seem like a great joke to my friends - and I’m well aware of how strange it sounds even today!)
After gaining my second degree at university, I landed my first job: a mental health nurse working with children. While there, I shocked my lovely manager by answering an appraisal interview question about my goals and aspirations with ‘I just want to be a mum’.
Some years later I was thrilled to fall pregnant - and devastated when this ended in miscarriage. I obsessed on falling pregnant again, until I did nine months later. I feel so much compassion when I meet women who have also been through that: it can be an isolating and lonely experience to want something so badly but which seems just out of reach.. My heart goes out to anyone who has been through fertility treatment and the emotional rollercoaster that becomes the new normal.
When I became a mum it followed a difficult birth, but I was overwhelmed with joy when she arrived. Two blissful nights in hospital with my newborn by my side were followed by a return home - at which point she began crying and didn’t stop. I don’t think I’d really considered this before having a baby; of course I knew they cried but I didn’t appreciate the emptiness I’d feel at being unable to soothe her.
And that’s how I’d really sum up my parenting journey so far : feeling that you’ve got something ‘solved’ only for another curveball to hit the minute you feel like you’ve cracked it.
My son was born two years after his sister via emergency Caesarean Section following a traumatic and long delivery. I’ve only recently discovered details of his birth and was surprised to learn I’d had a blood transfusion, something I wasn’t told at the time. Since experiencing this, I have met many woman professionally who have endured similar trauma and I understand completely what is can be like to be left broken, both physically and emotionally, not just from the event of birth itself but also from the aftermath.
I didn’t grasp the reality of my son’s birth immediately: I booked a hairdresser to come round two days later to cut my hair into a bob. It may have been an attempt to claim back some normality or an effort to signal a ‘fresh start’. I didn’t take any time to consider what I had been through and just tried to ‘get on’ with things. It didn’t work, and the struggle lasted weeks. After a month and a half, my parents took him in for the night so I could catch up on some rest. At eight weeks I stopped trying to feed him to sleep in the mistaken belief that he needed to ‘self soothe’. Now I cringe at the idea off trying to instil some kind of independence in such a tiny a child, but I was desperate both to give my then two-year-old daughter the attention she needed and carve out a space to get some sleep for us all.
A GP diagnosed me with postnatal depression, which felt like validation, but honestly I’m unsure what to make of this now. I felt so glad to have been heard. I thought perhaps it explained why friends with children of similar ages didn’t struggle as I seemed to. The flip side of the diagnosis suddenly felt as though it was a reflection on me.
Even now, browsing through photographs of that time can trigger feelings of sadness and loss for those early years. But this is balanced with happy memories. We started renovating our new home when they were only four and two, and these were adventurous, fulfilling moments (albeit amongst chaos!).
There have also been challenges. My daughter has learning difficulties and, as any other parent in the same position will tell you, life becomes an eternal battle with bureaucracy to get the support and specialist provision she needs. And hanging over everything is the shadow of worry for her future should she not get this.
It won’t be long before I enter the teenage years with my children. Even now, the sibling squabbles can reach epic proportions. And there seems to be a ‘rule’ around every aspect of parenting these days - something a lot of my clients struggle with too.
No wonder people are confused, burned out and self critical. What’s the difference between authoritive parenting and authoritarian parenting? What is effective parenting? Do I need to reduce screen time? Should I worry about fussy eating? The list is endless, and feeling guilty about not knowing the answers (sometimes there isn’t one!) can make things worse.
I’m far from the parent I probably want to be, but you know what? I’m OK with that now. I don’t always respond in ways I want to but I make sure I do the repair and continue to strive to be a good enough parent every day.
I’ve had clients work with me who are at the other end of this journey - children now adults and leaving for university and the sense of loss felt by parents can be profound. I’m bracing myself for preteen children and I might not enjoy it all (I’m pretty sure I won’t always!) but I’m going to find joy in the privilege of being a mum - whatever their age.
I hope reading this gives an insight into me, the real person behind the therapist. I hope too my personal reflections that might resonate with some of you.In future posts I’ll be talking more about some of the things I practice that help me be the parent I want to be, much of which is about restoring balance in a busy world.