When I found out I was expecting my first child, Lucas, I felt radiant. From the moment I knew he was a boy, I envisioned his name and embraced the journey ahead. A friend captured beautiful maternity photos of my growing belly. I read stories aloud, sang lullabies, and prepared for his grand entrance into the world.
However, not everyone in my circle shared my enthusiasm for the changes that parenthood brings. Many of my childless friends seemed to believe that parents used their children as excuses to leave gatherings early or to retreat to bed by 8 p.m. I was determined not to be that kind of parent.
When labor finally ended with Lucas’s arrival at 12:51 a.m. on a Monday, I was utterly spent yet overjoyed. Holding him, I was struck by how soft and delicate he was—more so than I had imagined. He was perfect, with a tiny nose, plump lips, and his father’s chin. Yet, I didn’t immediately feel like a mother.
As the months rolled on, I realized that it was not just exhaustion that kept me from embracing motherhood; it was fear. In my effort to prove my friends wrong, I said yes to everything but motherhood. Visitors flooded my hospital room just hours after Lucas was born. By the time we returned home, I had organized a get-together with a group of over twenty people. Sleep-deprived and in pain, I found myself breaking down in tears just days later. But that weekend, I wrapped Lucas in a carrier and took him to church, determined to avoid the perception that I was using my baby as an excuse to disengage from life.
Seven weeks later, I returned to work. I had no choice; I needed to work. I resolved that I would not cry as I left my sleeping son and partner at home before dawn. I managed to hold back the tears, convincing myself that if I allowed emotions to surface, I might lose myself to the identity of “that kind of mom.”
Two years into this juggling act of motherhood alongside other obligations, I finally acknowledged the truth: motherhood had transformed me. I couldn’t maintain my previous pace while fully embracing my role as a mother. I had to come to terms with the loss of my pre-parent self and the grief of missing out on precious moments with Lucas while at work. Acknowledging the painful feelings allowed me to also experience the joy that came with them, which ultimately was the reward for all the hard work of parenting.
Finally, I decided to fully embrace motherhood. I learned to be gentle and vulnerable, allowing myself to be a mother.
When I became pregnant again, I resolved to prioritize my family above all else. Labor with my second child began on Maundy Thursday. While Lucas and my partner, James, worked on Easter eggs in the kitchen, I lay down to rest, breathing deeply and calmly. Labor progressed smoothly, and I remained in that comfortable spot until my second son was born. It’s a memory that brings me joy.
Breastfeeding didn’t go as planned, but I sought help. Fellow mothers brought meals, and I opted out of hospital visitors to create a tranquil environment. My baby fed and slept, while I took the time to rest and recharge. I began to feel the emotions of motherhood swell within me. I still didn’t cry when returning to work, but I allowed gentleness and nurturing to flourish in my heart.
What I discovered was that truly feeling like a mother and enjoying motherhood hinged on what I permitted myself to do. I finally embraced my role, saying no to distractions that didn’t involve my children.
A Go-Ahead for New Mothers
So, to all new mothers out there, I want to extend some permission—not advice, but a genuine go-ahead. You have the right to trust your maternal instincts and prioritize what’s best for you and your child.
After childbirth, feel free to decline visitors and well-wishers. Just because someone brings you food or offers to help with chores doesn’t mean you owe them lengthy conversations or time with your baby. No one has a right to touch or hold your child without your consent. Remember, you don’t have to feel guilty about not attending social events if you’re not ready to re-enter the world. Those precious infant moments will pass quickly—so why rush?
I regret letting non-parents influence my parenting decisions. I wish I hadn’t worried about others’ opinions when I left a party early. Children have bedtimes, and I was exhausted from chasing after them. Supportive friends understand this reality.
Looking back, I wish I had focused solely on a few close friends and family members who genuinely wanted to help. If your friends or relatives bring more stress than support, remember that it’s perfectly acceptable to set boundaries. The limits we establish define who we allow into our lives and how long they stay. We, as mothers, determine who is present in our nurturing space.
If you struggle to say no, ask your partner or a close friend to deliver your message. They might convey your “thanks, but no thanks” more effectively than you can. And that’s completely fine.
So, mamas, here’s your permission to take it easy. Stay home, accept the meals, and let visitors know you’re unavailable. Draw the curtains, snuggle up, and enjoy this time together. The world will carry on without you for a bit, and we’ll be right here when you’re ready to emerge.
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Summary
This article offers new mothers the permission to prioritize their needs and those of their children after childbirth. It emphasizes the importance of setting boundaries, embracing emotions, and allowing oneself to fully experience motherhood. Mamas are encouraged to say no to unnecessary visitors and stressors, enabling them to focus on nurturing their child in a peaceful environment.