Ten things I’ve learnt about being a mother

Sarah Tulej
8 min readFeb 14, 2019

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I became a mum in July 2017. It turned my life upside down, round and round, left and right, and left me a messy puddle. Since then I’ve been gradually reconstituting myself. Like a blancmange or other slow-forming pudding. As more of my friends start to have children, I’ve had the urge to pass on my ‘wisdom.’ But not every mother (do any?) appreciates unsolicited wisdom. So, I leave my thoughts here, for anyone who might find them helpful.

A moving target…
  1. Nothing can prepare you for it. Such a cliche, but for good reason. That’s not to say you can’t ‘be prepared.’ Getting the right kit, doing the antenatal course, reading the baby bibles. But, being a parent is a true learning experience, and learning on the job is the nature of the beast. No matter what you read up about babies, your own is unique and constantly changing. There is an overwhelming quantity of advice, much of it conflicting, in baby books published since the 70s up to the present day. (In fact, one recent study found that mothers who had read the most self-help books reported the most depressive symptoms.) Advice abounds; take what works for you and ignore the rest. And, eventually — if you listen, watch and pay attention — you’ll get to know your little one and what works for you both.
  2. You might feel a lot of difficult emotions — this is both normal and ok. I felt a lot of guilt about this, after all — I had a beautiful, healthy baby that I’d planned. Why did I feel sadness, anger, fear, regret, terror at times? Once you start telling yourself you shouldn’t be feeling a certain way, therein lies danger. Allow yourself to feel those things. Talk to someone close about it, and don’t feel ashamed. We are humans with complex emotions and you are going through probably the biggest change of your life.
  3. Lean on those closest to you and ask for help when you need it. Your support network, whatever that looks like, is essential when you’re a new mum. I had this notion that I had made the decision to have a baby, therefore it was my (note, not also my partner’s!) responsibility to look after him. If I was finding it hard, then I couldn’t keep asking people for help — it would make me dependent, and then what would I do if that help went away? But, you can’t do it on your own. REPEAT. You can not do it on your own. Asking for practical help is important — and people generally really want to help (partner doing the night feed, friend minding the baby while you take a bath). But just as important is unburdening yourself to someone you feel safe with. Airing those difficult feelings. Letting your partner know that you aren’t coping and you need extra support. I found that texting old friends with kids who I’d not really been in touch with until becoming a mum was a great way to get instant empathy and a really helpful boost. Of course, there is a point when feeling down becomes unmanageable, and I urge you to see your GP, talk to your health visitor or to a friend who has had their own mental health problems (more about this at the bottom of this post).
  4. This too shall pass. The sleepless nights, the exhaustion, tearfulness, feeling clueless and inadequate. All par for the course as a new mum. But, it’s not forever. You will learn, your baby will grow and change, and you will feel nostalgic for those difficult early days as your confidence and capability grow.
  5. You may feel like you’ve made a terrible mistake. Loads of people have kids, but how many of us deeply question why we want to have them, and whether those reasons are wise? I find ironic the grilling that people without kids get about their decision to be child-free, when surely the bigger question should go to the child-rearing remainder! But, a different thing is thinking you’re a terrible person because it was your idea to have a kid, and now you feel shitty and wonder if it was really such a good idea. Me and my partner used to play the game of ‘if you could go back and not have him, would you…?’ And to be perfectly honest, it took a good year before the answer was an unequivocal NO! But there’s no use in those games. Don’t beat yourself up — you most likely made the decision in good faith and it will get better. Go easy on yourself and give it time.
  6. You may feel like you have lost your identity. I found that lots of the things that made me feel like me, were no longer available to me. My old life was over, so I thought. At first I couldn’t ride my bike anywhere — my world became small. I was so caught up in the minutiae of baby care I didn’t have the head space to take an interest in current affairs, in new ideas. My favourite clothes weren’t compatible with breastfeeding. I was yet another 30-something, furrowed-browed mum pushing a buggy in the park, invisible (or at least I felt I was). The good news is you do get your life back. As your baby gets bigger (once they can sit up on their own, walk, understand you) it gets easier. And, hopefully, you’ll get your life back. Albeit in a slightly different form, with a cute sidekick. But it’s not just losing the practical ability to do the things that interest you. Your identity fundamentally changes. Depending on your own self-esteem, childhood and values, it can bring up a lot of questions and difficult emotions that seem to come from nowhere. You may resent your new identity as ‘mother’, that it is obscuring who you really are. A lot of it comes down to time and adjustment. And acceptance. In time, hopefully, you will become proud in your new role. But it’s a work in progress.
  7. Your relationships will change. The one with your partner is the biggy. You’re now a three, not a two. You have become a mother, they a father (or another mother). As a new mother you may be feeling extremely vulnerable and sensitive to the slightest criticism (real or perceived). As a new father you may be feeling left out, or inadequate as the baby is so totally dependent on its mother, scared about how you’re supposed to ‘provide.’ As I wrote above, your own childhood experiences and how you were brought up may well come up and this can be difficult. You may feel, as I did, a sense of guilt that you can’t offer the things you had as a child — fresh air, a garden for example (this may apply to quite a lot of millennial children of baby boomers...) I did a short course as a brand new mum with a therapist and two other women. We covered topics including your birth story, your relationship with your mum, your partner, your dad (each their own session) and we poured out our feelings on these topics. I particularly remember the therapist passing on what someone had said to her before her first baby: “Whatever shit there is between you and your partner, deal with it before you have the baby as it will all come out after it is born.” True, albeit hard to do. But, during pregnancy or ideally before conceiving, it would be so worthwhile to go over some questions with your partner. How were you brought up? What would you want to pass on? What would you do differently? What sort of parent do you want to be? The answers can be surprising, even off-putting. But eventually they will need to be reconciled. For me, it took a while for my partner to accept that I was really struggling. He’d seen me deal with (seemingly) bigger challenges at work and in life, and thought it was simply lack of confidence. I didn’t communicate how much I needed help, and I wasn’t used to relying on him so fully. I found it really hard to ask for help, because I was a strong, independent woman, wasn’t I? Hell, I’d even recommend getting couples counselling at some point because you need to be such a strong team, and the more you can get things out in the open, the better. My relationship with my parents has got closer. After a brief spell wondering ‘am I becoming the parent now?’ as we’ve all grown older, they are now back in the parent camp — providing massive emotional and practical support since I had a baby, through the hardest times of my life. That said, not everyone has a partner or parents to rely on, but whoever you rely on, keep working on those relationships.
  8. You gotta slow things down. Being a busy, somewhat anxious, and overworked Londoner*, I carried the feeling of someone cracking the whip behind me in my subconscious and into motherhood. However, babies like you to be available as much as possible (i.e. all the time) and if you try to rush them they will cry, poo, puke or demand food (or do all at once) until you slow back down again. Meeting up with other parents involves at a good buffer around the chosen meeting time. And the meeting date for that matter. And the first few years (hopefully even longer) are the time to savour the lovely moments as they unfold (and keep them in mind when you want to cry or shout at a later point that day). If you’ve dabbled in mindfulness, parenthood is the time to put it into practice. Plus, slowing down is good for the soul. Listen to the birds and look at the sky.
  9. Being a parent is an endurance sport. I asked my partner what his ‘lesson’ would be. I can’t say I particularly liked the way he put it… Something along the lines of “being a parent isn’t hard but it is relentless and mundane.” In other words, you’re in for the long haul, and if you’re used to regular excitement and novelty, then prepare for some repetitive, domestic drudgery. That said, there are so many moments of wonder as your child grows that you will treasure. You’ve just got to make your peace with the feed, sleep, clean up, repeat routine for a good while.
  10. Never give another parent advice! Unless they ask for it that is. Most new mums are sensitive but also extremely well-versed in the common wisdom. ‘Have you tried napping while they nap?’ ‘Have you got a night time routine yet?’ (That’s another one actually, advice disguised as a question.) Just ask nice open questions and they’ll lead you where they want to go. ‘How have you been doing?’ ‘How’s the baby getting on?’ And if you’re burning to give advice, ask them if they’d like it first. Be sympathetic, and tell them they’re doing a good job. It’s all we want to hear.

So, there you have it. 10 paragraphs of therapeutic writing disguised as advice.

*My dad rightly picked me up on this. To clarify, I have lived in London over nine years but I am very much a proud Lancashire woman, with a quarter Polish thrown in. Big difference. I do however succumb to Londonish behaviour at times (fast walking, dead behind the eyes, etc).

And finally, if you are feeling overwhelmed with negative thoughts, anxiety, mental paralysis, depression, terror — you are not alone and you need to get help. See a GP (preferably one you think is good), or talk to your midwife or health visitor, or speak to someone you know who has had mental health issues (they tend to be very wise and know what to do at such times). There are NHS support services out there for mums because SO MANY of us suffer from post natal depression, anxiety, psychosis or just being really low. Don’t delay.

https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/post-natal-depression/

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Sarah Tulej
Sarah Tulej

Written by Sarah Tulej

Northerner living in Rotterdam via East London. 🎉 Intersectional environmentalist, photo snapper, charity shopper 🌱

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