From the moment you find out you’re going to be a parent, you want to make sure you get it right. Are you taking the right prenatal vitamins? Will an extra cup of coffee really make your baby shorter when they grow up?
When your baby finally arrives, they come with a whole other set of concerns that start to float through your mind at 2 am “How can I keep my baby safe? Am I deceiving them in a way I didn’t realize? I see other moms doing more, doing it all, doing it better. Am I doing enough to make it right as a parent?”
Anxiety About “Not Being Right” Is The Problem
Oh, mother. I want to hug you. You know, one of those nice hugs that pulls you in tight and lets you know that, yes, you’re doing enough. You don’t have to do everything. And best of all, you don’t have to nail it every time. Trust me; I’ve been down that road (and sometimes I still get caught up in it all). But, honestly, often, it’s the anxiety and stress of not getting it right for my kids that really breaks things – not me.
I always wanted to be a mother. I can’t wait to hold my daughter and hug her with endless love. The naughty clothes. The new baby smell. I still look forward to those sleepless nights lulling him into a milk-induced slumber. And as I do this, I stare at him and wonder how such a small person can fill my whole heart. I like this. I want to do everything right and do right by him. So why can’t I do something that I think should come naturally?
Yes, I am talking about breastfeeding. I mean, come on. Wasn’t my postpartum body built for this purpose? Why can’t I get this one thing right? I wanted to breastfeed exclusively, but it just didn’t seem to work. She couldn’t tell me if she had had enough, but the constant crying seemed to say it all. I am a failure.
Not Breastfeeding Doesn’t Mean I Didn’t Get It Right
Accepting defeat was not easy. I quickly gave him up for formula feeding to anyone who asked to hold him. Because even though it’s not my fault, it breaks my heart to see him take the bottle. It seems like every other mom gets this part without even trying, so what’s wrong with me?
Looking back, I wish I had told myself to stop stressing about breastfeeding. It didn’t make me less of a woman, and I certainly wasn’t a bad mother. In the end, feed the best. Feeding my daughter did not harm her. But the pressure to breastfeed makes the moments I should have been with him fly by in the blink of an eye.
Did I learn from the experience? Yes. And no. Because this won’t be the last time I’ll let it ruin the memories and moments I’ll never get back.
Another terrifying meltdown was at a birthday party I hosted. Well, maybe it’s not so infamous, but it lives gratuitously in my mind. My daughter chose the theme. We shopped for decorations, made a menu, and finally agreed on what kind of cake she wanted.
Will it be Pinterest-perfect? Nope. But I want to give him everything he can think of. Aside from Christmas, his birthday is probably the only other day he spends counting down to all year (yes, competing with Christmas is no easy feat).
Other Moms Consider Their Kids’ Parties
She always talked about her friends’ parties and how their moms had the best decorations. And their moms make the most creative themed meals. And their mothers. . . Well, the way she talked about it, I felt like anything I did — short of all the things that all these other moms did — would be a total failure.
The bounce house was late when it finally arrived on the big day. When they finally came, it was wrong. The guests have arrived, the wind is blowing away all my carefully crafted decorations, and I’m barely done making the food. Did I have a quick cry in the shower before I jumped into hosting? Let’s just say there’s nothing fast about it.
I am very disappointed in the fact that I am sure he will be disappointed. How could he not? Almost nothing went to plan. There’s no way I can come close to all the other perfect Pinterest parties I’ve heard of.
Pressure Made Me Miss Good Things
But then again, trying to do everything and do it right as a parent, and doing it better than everyone else, guaranteed that I didn’t enjoy the celebration with everyone else. I missed the giggles when the kids flew down the bounce house slide (whose color and theme, in the end, didn’t matter). I missed the rave reviews of the candy apple salad I made. Because all I could focus on was the cutesy-themed name placard being blown away and destroyed (as were all my hopes and dreams for that day).
These issues may not seem like a big deal. But at that time, they felt the size. Worse, they zapped every ounce of energy I should have saved to enjoy experiences with my kiddos. Yes, I’m the mom who used to be pressured to get everything right. I tried my best. And even though other people may not think I got it right, I’ve learned to embrace the beauty in the imperfect – the weird, the fun, and the actual experience rather than what I thought it needed to be.
That’s why, every night when I put my girls to bed, I breathe in the joyful happiness of their motherhood, imperfect as I am. And I release all the anxiety about getting it right as a parent that I hold on to that tells me otherwise. Their hugs, hugs, and little heads resting on my chest are all I need to tell me that I’m okay as a mom. And you too.
