A Gift for Mom! 🤍

Every day I am inundated with images and articles on what it should look like. Helpful ways to get me to that point. Every day I am faced with a narrow definition of what acceptable looks like. 

I am not talking about what my body should look like. I am talking about the image of a perfect mother. And it starts early. The media paints a very specific picture of what pregnancy should look like, what birth should entail and what motherhood should be. I think it’s time to call its bluff.

As someone who has has been blessed with breezy pregnancies, easy births and babies that instantly took to breastfeeding, I know I am lucky. I fit into the mold. My experience aligned with the pre-conceived ideas I was taught in the baby books. As someone who, despite all of that, lost a child to SIDS, I am tragically unlucky. I shatter every mold. I defy every preconception.

There are many alternative routes within motherhood. I think it’s time to realize the validity of those alternatives and celebrate them. I think it’s time we eased up on each other. Time to let go of judgement and to understand that other people’s choices are not a comment on our own. To acknowledge that fitting into the “perfect” model is not something we necessarily control.

The Pregnancy Myth

A “perfect” pregnancy is one where the mother remains active and exercises. She doesn’t put on too much weight. She is perhaps a little sick in the early weeks and a little tired in the latter ones. She moisturisers her stretch marks away. On the whole, she glows.

had such a pregnancy with my first born. I exercised often, ate well and lathered myself in body oil. I patted myself on the back for being such a model pregnant person.

When pregnant with number two, my exercise was limited to running after my first born, my diet incorporated most of his left overs and if my body saw any moisturiser, it was a small miracle. Yet, the pregnancy itself felt pretty much the same.

All that pious work I did in my first pregnancy was suddenly revealed for what it was – a way to make me feel good, empowered and connected to my baby, but not necessarily the reason for my easy pregnancy. In truth, my body just seems to work well in pregnancy and child birth. My genes and good luck played a significant part. 

I have friends who did a lot more work than I did, yet were faced with “worrying” weight gain, sickness and battle scars. Sometimes our actions and intentions don’t align with what we experience.

The Birth Myth

We are taught that a “perfect” birth is a vaginal delivery, with limited intervention and minimal drugs. With my first child, I practiced hypno-birthing, I had a doula and three page birth plan. Things went according to that plan.

My second and third babies came just as easily but without the preparation. Again, luck and genes played a large part.

I have friends that wanted a vaginal birth, but the safest option for them and baby was a planned caesarean. I have friends who have had emergency caesareans – that’s never on the birth plan. I have friends that held off on having epidurals for hours and hours and later wondered why they did so. I have friends who have had planned caesareans, because that’s what made sense to them and their family.

All of those births resulted in amazing little people. All of their stories deserve celebration. I don’t believe in one size fits all or a hierarchy of birth experiences. 

The Breastfeeding Myth

We are told “breast is best.” I celebrate women who breastfeed one hundred percent. I support those that persevere with breast feeding when it’s difficult. I breastfed both my living children until well past a year old.

What I cannot support is shaming the mother who isn’t breastfeeding.

I have friends whose babies had severe allergies and needed to switch to formula. I have friends that simply didn’t have enough supply to keep up with their hungry little ones. I have friends whose milk dried up long before they wanted to stop feeding their children. None of those mothers are inadequate but I know some were made to feel that way. All of those mothers nourished their children with love. They all made the decisions that made sense for themselves and their families. And sometimes those decisions, for many reasons, fall outside what we are told to expect.

The Truth of It

When my middle son died by SIDS, my mind reeled with questions. I wrestled with “why me?” For the longest time I thought my son’s death was a form of punishment for having motherhood come so easily. I don’t think that any more. I think that life is random. I think we have less control over things than we are lead to believe. I think that we can do all the “right” things, and still be faced with an outcome we were not expecting. 

There is a lot of value in preparation. Women should be educated and empowered through pregnancy and childbirth. But it is simply a myth to assume that doing these things will automatically lead to the outcome we want. Children seem to have minds of their own long before they greet the world.

I think it’s time we understood that many of the “choices” made in motherhood aren’t really choices at all. Circumstance and medical opinion can take us in the opposite direction to what we had hoped for. What we were told to dream of.

But choices made with love for our children should never leave a mother ashamed. Even when those choices fall outside of the mold.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Robyna May

Robyna May lives in sunny Brisbane, Australia with her sons, her husband and a crazy dog called Hugo. She has three children, two on earth and one in heaven. Her days are spent looking after her boys and snatching time to write down all the thoughts that jostle in her brain. With a background in IT and law, she has recently set up her own consulting service and is balancing motherhood, entrepreneurship and writing with varying degrees of success. Robyna May writes about grief and parenting after loss at http://chasinghissunshine.com/ She also writes at the http://www.themummyandtheminx.com/ a blog about rediscovering your inner minx and reclaiming your identity after having babies.

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

In: Motherhood
Mother and child silhouette

For most of my life, I believed becoming a stay-at-home mom wasn’t just a choice, it was the ultimate goal. The kind of life a “good” woman was meant to want. The kind of life that meant you were doing things right. I grew up surrounded by that message. In conservative spaces, in church circles, in subtle conversations about what a “real” mother looked like. Women who stayed home were praised. Women who didn’t were quietly questioned. I learned, without ever being directly told, that a mother’s highest purpose was to center her entire world around her children and her...

Keep Reading

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

In: Motherhood, Teen
Teenager on phone

I was not prepared to be a mother of teenagers. Sure, I was warned by other parents about the difficult journey I was about to embark on, but I did not expect it to be this challenging. I remember these two sweet, innocent children who wanted to be with me all the time. Now they barely give me the time of day. How did we get here? Like many parents, we long to have that child who once, a long time ago, called us Mommy and Daddy and begged us to read them another story. Where are those kids I...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman standing over water

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise.  From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

To the Mom Worrying She’s Not Doing Enough This Summer

In: Motherhood
Kids looking at lake in summer

It’s only the second week of summer, and, thanks to modern-day social media, I feel like I’ve already seen it all. Picture-perfect beach getaways, color-coded bucket lists, backyard neighborhood movie nights, you name it. And if I’m being honest, I’ve already caught myself wondering if I’m doing enough. More than once, at that. As a solo mom of two, I’m still adjusting to our new norm while trying desperately to delicately let go of any expectations tied to all of our past experiences…including summer vacations. I’m reminding myself that our summers won’t look like they used to. At least not...

Keep Reading

Your Worth As a Mother Is Not Defined By How You Feed Your Baby

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother and baby stand by crib

I’m not breastfeeding my baby. I wanted to. And I was able to for the first several weeks of her life. But as the days went on, I could tell it wasn’t enough for her anymore, so we started supplementing. And sure enough, without warning, she began screaming through nursing sessions, but was satisfied with a bottle. And that’s when I knew what I needed to do. A similar situation also happened with my first. She didn’t gain her birth weight back on my milk alone, so I had no choice but to supplement right away. And before I knew...

Keep Reading

A Mother’s Love Doesn’t End When Her Kids Move Out

In: Motherhood
Family posing in Time Square

When my last sibling moved out of the house, I watched my mom struggle in a quiet, almost unspoken way. It wasn’t something dramatic or visible; it was something I could feel in her presence. For 40 years, her life had revolved around taking care of us—my siblings and me. Every season of her life had been shaped around our needs, our schedules, our milestones, and our growing up. Being a mom wasn’t just something she did. It was who she was—the structure of her days, the cadence of her thoughts, and the center of her purpose. So when the...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading

I May Let Go of the Baby Things, but I’ll Hold the Memories Forever

In: Baby, Motherhood
Woman looking through closet of baby items

It’s easy to think of multiple sayings and mottos about how invaluable earthly possessions are. “It’s not what you have, but who you share it with” “Worry less about things and more about experiences” “Who cares what you have, you can’t take it with you when you go” And trust me, I know these to be true. I am not a hoarder of hotel pens or mini shampoo bottles or every receipt and coaster from my favorite restaurants. I don’t care much for name-brand shoes or designer purses, yet there are a few things I just can’t easily let go...

Keep Reading

Mom Showed Us Love that Lasts

In: Motherhood
Vintage photo of mother and three young kids

We moved a few years ago, and we had a closet that needed some reworking. In doing so, my husband found some old photos. He pulled out an album that held this vintage photo of my mom, my sisters, and me. It was probably circa 1983 when prints were made from Kodak. I actually don’t remember seeing the photo before. But I love it. In the photo, my mother’s eyes are shut with a blink because those were the days when blinks weren’t edited. It’s beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about the captured connection. She was showing us something...

Keep Reading

This Is How I’m Raising My Sensitive Son

In: Motherhood
Little boy hugs a cat

When I was pregnant with my son, everyone warned me of what was to come. “Just you wait,” they’d say with an underlying schadenfreude, “you’ll never sleep again.” I fully expected sleep-deprived days and long, unrelenting nights, calming my son down from tantrums, trying to keep the peace with my marriage. But I got lucky—my son sleeps through the night, doesn’t throw tantrums, and my marriage is stronger than ever. I didn’t expect that, especially because I struggle with my own mental health and assumed I’d be in the weeds during my postpartum period. Now that my son is almost...

Keep Reading