When I was expecting my first child, Max, I felt radiant. The moment I discovered I was pregnant, I knew his name and that he was a little boy. A close friend captured the beauty of my growing belly with maternity photos, and I took the time to read and sing to him during those precious months. I envisioned a joyous welcome into the world for my son.
However, not everyone around me shared in the excitement. Many of my childless friends believed that parents used their little ones as excuses to leave social gatherings early or turn in for the night by 8 p.m. I was determined to be different.
After a long and difficult labor, Max was born at 1:02 AM on a Wednesday. I was exhausted yet elated, holding my beautiful, delicate son, who had his father’s chin and an adorable button nose. But despite this blissful moment, I didn’t immediately feel like a mother.
As the days turned into weeks, I realized that it wasn’t just fatigue that held me back; it was fear. In my eagerness to prove my friends wrong, I accepted every invitation and tried to juggle it all, neglecting my new role as a mom. Visitors flocked to the hospital just hours after Max’s arrival, and I felt the pressure to entertain. The very next night, we hosted a gathering for friends, and by Wednesday morning, I was in tears, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Yet, I still took Max to church wrapped in a Moby wrap, determined to show I wasn’t using my baby as an excuse to shy away from life.
Seven weeks after his birth, I returned to work without shedding a tear as I left him with his dad, getting up before dawn and heading into the world. I smiled at his pictures but steered clear of tears. I feared that if I let my emotions show, I might lose myself entirely to motherhood.
After two years of trying to fit motherhood into the margins of my life, I had to face it: motherhood had transformed me. I couldn’t maintain my pre-parenting pace while also fully nurturing my child. I needed to mourn the loss of my old life and embrace the bittersweet feelings that came with being a mom. It was time to welcome the good moments that accompanied the hard work of parenting.
Finally, I decided to embrace motherhood wholeheartedly. I learned to be gentle with myself and allowed the nurturing instinct to flourish.
When I became pregnant with my second child, I made a conscious choice to prioritize my family. I refused to say yes to anything that took me away from being a mom.
On Maundy Thursday, as I relaxed while Max and his dad worked on Easter eggs, labor began. I stayed put, breathing through the contractions with a smile, never leaving my comfortable spot until my second son arrived. I’ll always cherish that moment.
While breastfeeding didn’t go as planned, I sought help, and the support from fellow mothers was invaluable. I turned down hospital visitors and kept the atmosphere calm, allowing my newborn to eat, sleep, and for me to rest.
Gradually, I started to feel the connection deepen. I didn’t cry when I returned to work this time, but I felt a growing sense of gentleness and nurture within me. Enjoying motherhood became a matter of allowing myself to be a mother and setting boundaries around my family.
To all the new mothers out there, I want to give you a piece of permission. It’s not just advice; it’s a green light. You have permission to trust your instincts, to listen to that inner voice telling you what’s best for you and your child.
After giving birth, feel free to decline visitors and well-meaning helpers. Just because someone brings you a meal or offers to do your dishes doesn’t mean you owe them lengthy conversations or baby-holding time. No one has a right to hold your baby.
Remember, no one can make you feel guilty without your consent (thanks for that wisdom, Eleanor Roosevelt). You absolutely can say no to social events if you’re not ready to face the world yet. Those quiet moments with your newborn are fleeting; cherish them.
Looking back, I wish I hadn’t allowed the opinions of non-parents to influence my parenting style. I wish I had been unbothered by the whispers about leaving early or needing rest. Children come with their own needs and schedules. I should have prioritized supportive friends and family who helped me through the transition.
If saying no feels daunting, enlist the help of your partner or a close friend to communicate your boundaries. They might express your “thank you, but no” message more effectively than you can on your own.
So, mamas, here’s your permission: take it easy. Stay home. Accept the meals and kindly dismiss visitors. Snuggle, hibernate, and enjoy this precious time together. The world can wait, and we’ll be here when you’re ready to re-enter.
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In summary, embrace your motherhood journey. Set your boundaries, trust your instincts, and prioritize your well-being. Allow yourself to enjoy the beautiful chaos of being a new mom.
Keyphrase: permission for new mothers
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