It’s ok if you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.
None of us do most of the time, truly.
We are all just fumbling our way through as best we can, the only way we know how. The only way that works.
And yes, some make it look easier than others.
But behind all of the perfect photos, the well behaved children, and the matching outfits, there is the rest of motherhood.
The mundane, the messy, the chaotic side.
The side that isn’t always showcased, framed or spoken about.
But the side that can so often also be the majority of the time.
It’s the side of the mother who sits on the kitchen floor some days, head in hands, ankles clung onto by her children, ears burning from the constant shrieks, tears and fussiness, thinking “I have no idea what I’m doing right now”, “I feel completely out of my depth”, or “Send help. Please send help”.
It’s the side of the mother who has tried putting her baby down in his cot 10 times in a row unsuccessfully, and feels broken as she lies in the cot beside him or with him on her chest for hours into the night knowing that the sleep she so desperately needs once again won’t come tonight.
It’s the side of the mother whose bed is a pool of tears, as she wades through the sting of his latch and her rawness with every move. But also as she dives into the depths of this sometimes overwhelming new love, this new identity shift, this relentless constant-ness of being someone’s everything.
It’s the side of the mother who calls her partner before lunch to check what time they are coming home, and then again and again to hurry them along before they are due because she feels like she’s about to explode.
It’s the side of the mother who has to get out of the house as soon as her partner gets home, before sitting in the car in the driveway after a long drive on her own, trying to muster any energy she has to re-enter the chaos and parent as gently and presently as she wished for since yesterday.
It’s the side of the mother who spends far too long on her phone, asleep on the couch, or awake when she should be asleep in the moments she has her own hands.
But there’s more to this side too.
It’s also a side that loves them to pieces.
It’s a side that aches with gratitude.
It’s a side of her to also be loved.
Because this side is important.
It’s the side that makes her human.
And it’s this side that her children will learn the most from.
Please remember that there’s always two sides,
To every mother and her story.
But also remember that the only thing both sides actually know for certain is how to love them, her children.
And that’s the most important part anyway,