A mother from my twins’ kindergarten class recently asked how my daughter was adjusting to school. As our daughters sat side by side, flipping through a large picture book at their tiny table, I cautiously replied, “We’re dealing with some transition challenges,” despite barely knowing her—our encounter had been amidst the morning drop-off chaos.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, a tad too cheerily, “I thought we were the only ones!”
I opened up about my five-year-old’s meltdowns: the tears over trivial matters, the defiance over everything at home. My daughter had even begun telling others that her teacher was mean and that her classmates were pushing her around. (Rest assured, I’ve verified that these claims are untrue.) “Everyone else tells me ‘Everything is fine,’ when I ask about kindergarten. I just don’t understand.”
I’ve been there, yearning to connect with other mothers during those awkward early parenting days. It’s disheartening to hear that everyone else seems to be sailing smoothly. When my eldest was born, I was utterly exhausted, grappling with the challenges of breastfeeding, and struggling to find a new normal. Whenever I asked fellow new mothers in our baby gym or at coffee shops how they were faring, my heart sank at their bright replies of “Wonderful!”
Eventually, I found camaraderie among a few mothers with babies the same age who were honest about their feelings—admitting to wanting to toss the baby out the window after hours of unexplainable crying. No one was about to do that, of course; we all shared our parenting victories and challenges, but it was refreshing to acknowledge that there is a space in the vast landscape of motherhood to share our truths.
I don’t wish for others to be miserable; in fact, I’m eager to exchange ideas and solutions for our shared struggles, while offering support. However, if you can’t acknowledge that parenting sometimes feels like a punishment for past sins, we probably won’t connect well.
Just a day after my chat in the classroom, I bumped into another mother I knew from a few years back when our children participated in the same afternoon program. She asked how everyone was doing in school. I replied, “We’re still facing some challenges at home. They’re great in school, but they save all their anxiety for me.” She appeared relieved.
Are these mothers particularly cruel or sadistic? Do they take pleasure in hearing about my kids’ struggles and my own stumbles? Of course not. But either everyone else’s children are exceptionally well-adjusted, or they’re simply not being truthful. I’ve witnessed other kids crying in the mornings, clinging to their parents as they leave the classroom, so I know my kids aren’t the only ones struggling with the long days and new expectations.
I don’t understand why we often don’t share the truth with each other. I respect that some people are more private than I am—after all, I’m a writer and tend to delve into the nitty-gritty of life. However, when another mom shares her fears or frustrations, and you still insist that everything is “fine” in your life, it suggests that there’s unnecessary pressure to maintain a façade of perfection.
I attribute much of this pressure to social media. While I enjoy seeing everyone’s happy moments and share my own, it’s vital to recognize that there’s an imbalance in the public portrayal of motherhood, which doesn’t benefit anyone. The so-called perfect moms feel an unending obligation to maintain their image, always striving to outdo themselves. Meanwhile, the rest of us feel like we can never keep up, often blaming ourselves—or our imperfect children—for our lack of picture-perfect moments. We can’t seem to recreate the heartwarming scenes we just “liked” on social media.
The mothers I encounter are yearning for genuine connections with relatable experiences. I refuse to sugarcoat what happens in my home—the chaotic, absurd, awkward, and sometimes frightening realities. Admittedly, I may have made people uncomfortable by revealing some of the less glamorous truths of our daily lives. But I’ve also discovered connection, laughter, and humility along the way. In sharing our broken places, we find the beauty of human experience.
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Conclusion
In summary, the journey of motherhood can often feel isolating, but by embracing the uncomfortable truths, we can foster connections and solidarity. Let’s strive to be honest about our experiences, supporting one another through the chaos.
Keyphrase: motherhood struggles
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