Mothers are humans

by Katie Norfolk

At 9cm dilated, an epidural needle in my spinal cord, sat on a white bed not much covering my dignity.

 With a swollen labouring belly, I fought against every cell of my being driving me to move through this contraction. I groaned like a wounded bear´s last roar but at that point a nurse boomed “stay still for your child”.

This was my moment when it started. 

I became a mother and everything was expected to be forsaken in light of the child. And as a mother wouldn’t we give everything? But blimey can society and TikTok lay off a little.

I feel like we need to celebrate the fact that our children are brought up by humans.  Not an AI, all knowing neutral being but an emotional, feeling, sentimental, knackered old hag doing her best and doing the right thing, most of the time.

In the quest to bring up children better than ourselves and with all this information, I find expectations which are unobtainable because, well, I guess I am blessed to being mortal.  Pre motherhood, I lived a life where I used outlets for stress and treated myself when I was down. I went to my parents and husband for love and if something beat me too hard, I decided it wasn’t worth it and quit.

Bring me forward to our first paragraph and I no longer have those crutches, no back up.  I have an important job with no training and I have only just discovered that I am not the mentally sane person I thought I was because take away my crutches, take away unbroken sleep for more than three hours at most in the past four years, take away space and time and guidance and payment and respect and add in expectation and responsibility and did I add tiredness, then I see my raw core. 

I look in and I realise I am a bloody mess.  How did I ever believe I was a well-rounded kind of person? In fact, I may have gloated about staying calm in most situations and being able to think on my feet. 

When I have not slept, not eaten, everyone has cried at me for three hours, whilst still having jobs to do and places to be, then I find myself shouting my head off, slamming the kitchen cupboard (don’t tell the landlord) and hiding in the bathroom as all these dependants are pounding themselves against the door, crying and demanding I straighten myself out and take charge.  I float above myself and realise I look like a complete nut job, but you can't lay out a yoga mat half way through a tantrum and find your chakras, Can you?  What is left­? Gut strength gets me out of that bathroom, I walk out with the same face of grim determination you see on an athlete as they pass the 100-mile mark towards the finish line and get on with it.

Please if you find yourself shaking your head at my admittance here and knowing this is not you, then pop yourself down at your local laboratory because you, my dear, are a unicorn. 

If you can´t be perfect then move on, give yourself some forgiveness and just be the best you can be and dump that big bag of guilt. Know that you are human and that is exactly what kids need to see. Humans that love them. Feeling and living right there next to them. Fail, it's ok, I think... Just pick yourself up, be present and say sorry. Talk about what just happened and with your child, work through how that behaviours can be rectified.  If you can’t be perfect, then show it is ok to fuck up, work through problems and move on without guilt. 

Please note that if you are a jerk or use your emotions to physically or mentally abuse, then that is not ok and you need professional help. 

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