In a small brown room, wallpapered with posters for meningococcal vaccinations and breastfeeding classes, a circle of women sat on green plastic chairs, cradling their brand-new babies, hoping everyone could see how well they were coping.
The smiles were fixed, and appearances were being kept, until the voice of one brave woman cut through.
‘This is really hard,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell us it would be this hard?’
Her white flag was an amnesty for the group, giving us the freedom to tell the truth.
‘Oh but they did tell us,’ I replied. ‘We just didn’t believe them.’
The laugh that followed was the tipping point, the moment we all stopped pretending. We exhaled the effort and expectation, the unrealistic standards and fear. We looked at each other for what felt like the first time, and we started talking.
My son was eight weeks old, and I was skating along the top of a very dark spiral, feeling alone and unsure, wondering why I wasn’t more content, why I didn’t love motherhood more. I loved my child, but the day-to-day grind was getting me down. I worried I wasn’t cut out for motherhood.
That first meeting with my mothers’ group changed everything for me. Those women saved me from that spiral.
Six years, a second round of kids and the formation of a ‘dads’ group’ later, these are the best women I know. (They were very forceful about their inclusion in this book.)
They’re open and honest and they get me. They’ve never needed me to clarify how much I adore my children whenever I complain.
These women are the people I can message, saying ABOUT TO MURDER MY CHILDREN, WHO WILL GIVE ME AN ALIBI? And they’ll all write back giving me various backstories for where we were when it happened.
They know how much I love my kids but they also know that sometimes you need to say and think really dark things to get you through the day.
They are my people. You need your people.
Men don’t get it. It’s not their fault. Men can be amazing partners and exceptional fathers … but they can’t be mums. They’ll simply never be able to understand what you’re going through like another mum can.
Being a first-time mum can be so much lonelier than you thought. Despite spending all day, every day with a small person, you can feel completely isolated from the world. Mum friends are your deliverance. Your emancipation. Your absolution and salvation.
When you’ve been thrown from the workplace into the motherhood, you’re adrift without a team. Who do you compare notes with? Who can you bitch about the boss with? Who can cover for you when you need to nip out to the shops?
Humans are team players. We are made to work in groups. So when you bring a baby home, all you really need to survive is a few hours of sleep a day, and people to whinge to. If you get these two things, you’ll be A-OKAY.
It can’t be your old friends, bless them. They’re lovely, I’m sure, but you might find they don’t want to hang out with you so much now you’ve started wearing your husband’s trackpants and your preferred topic of conversation is poo, vomit and why your baby won’t sleep.
It can’t be friends with half a dozen kids. No matter how hard they try not to, those friends will always roll their eyes a bit when you tell them how hard your day was. When you’ve got more children than limbs, you can’t help but think mothers of one child have it easy. Let me be clear, one child is NOT EASY. Not if it’s your first.
It needs to be other first-time mums with babies the same age as yours. Absolutely no one will understand all the emotions, the questions, the uncertainty and torturous exhaustion like another mum who’s going through the exact same things at the exact same time.
Of course, mums’ groups don’t always work. Sometimes people who would never normally be friends with each other are thrown together and expected to bond over the shared experience of having a newborn. It’s not that simple. But don’t give up! Find another mums’ group. Stalk women in the playground, find an online group, join a gym and loiter near the babies in the creche until their mums come to pick them up. Whatever you have to do, find some mum friends. Ones that get you. Ones who support you. Ones who bring wine and/or coffee and cake.
Rowena doesn’t care what sort of bag you’re carrying, how you do your hair or how you choose to feed your baby. She just wants to find a cafe with good coffee and highchairs so she can sit and talk about life.
Laura’s a hot mess with a kid who doesn’t sleep or eat, and she can never get herself out of her house on time, but man, can she tell a good story. She never fails to make you all laugh while making you feel better because you know you’re not the only one who struggles.
If you’re falling apart, Lucy’s the one to grab you by the shoulders and tell you you’re okay in a voice that makes you think maybe you will be. She always knows exactly what to say to make you feel stronger and she never makes you feel like your problems are yours alone.
Your child turns and smacks Erica’s child straight across the face and you leap out of your seat to scold him, but Erica just laughs, shrugs and says, ‘She’ll live.’
Erica always listens to your problems but she never tells you how to fix them. She just nods, smiles and says, ‘Yeah, me too, babe.’
You’re sad and stressed and you’re feeling like the whole world is against you, so you unload in an essay to your mum friends’ message group … Sally responds with a gif of a woman being smacked with hot dogs. Sometimes you just need a friend who’ll tell you to suck it up with a well-timed gif.
Whenever you mention something cool your child just did, Nina cheers the loudest and the longest because she loves your child. She never feels the need to compete or compare; she’s just genuinely happy for you.
Alana dresses her baby in clothes that cost more than yours, directs your attention to her designer nappy bag every chance she gets and can’t believe you didn’t get diamond studs like hers for a ‘push present’. Alana is very impressed with her things and she needs you to agree. But she’s also making you feel embarrassed about the $60 baby bag your mum bought you and you get the feeling she’s scoffing at your baby’s Target onesie.
Alana is not for you. You don’t want to be worrying about meeting anyone else’s standards when you’re already worried about meeting your own.
Sarah’s doing everything right (according to her) and she wants to fix you and your baby. With. All. The. Advice. You didn’t ask for the advice, you don’t want the advice, but here she is, asking, ‘Have you tried …?’ and forcing a Save Our Sleep book onto you because you simply must!
Sarah means well, but she won’t ever stop trying to tell you how to parent.
Lena wants to win and your baby is the loser. Anyone twisted enough to find fault in someone else’s child so hers will look better is not a person you need in your life. No one needs the added pressure of someone sweetly and innocently asking you, ‘Oh, isn’t Rufus rolling yet? Goodness, Milo was rolling weeks ago! I think he’s just extra-strong, you know?’ What you need is the mum who’s going to say, ‘Yeah, Cooper’s rolling but he hasn’t found his hands, so I probably won’t contact the AIS just yet.’
• The subtle: ‘Oh, you’re using dummies, are you? How interesting! No, really—good for you.’
• The backhanded: ‘Oh, you’re using the Baby Benny carrier? That’s a nice colour. I’m using the PostureBaby, of course, because it’s the gold-standard carrier for baby’s hip development and it’s recommended by orthopaedic specialists. But yours is pretty.’
• The to-your-face: ‘You’re co-sleeping with your baby? I don’t understand why anyone would do that. It’s not safe and you’re just teaching your child to be co-dependent.’
Nicola’s already signed up for Baby Pilates, Baby First Aid, GymbaROO and flute lessons for when Henry masters his reach-and-grab. Don’t write Nicola off just yet because she brings all the homemade treats and you might be able to get her to calm the farm eventually.
Annie’s pretty sure her baby should be waving by now and she’s got an emergency paediatrician appointment lined up but she’d really love your input on whether she should be worried or not. Should she be doing more? She’s just SO tired because she can’t sleep at night with all the decisions she has to make every day.
Someone hand Annie a paper bag and give her a cuddle. You might just be the one who can help her relax.
Richard turns up now and then just to prove he can do it better than any woman. And he does, the bastard. He’s got some good tips for playing with your baby, though, so maybe let him stay.
Most importantly: BE a good mum friend. No one in your life knows what you’re going through like these women. Trust them. Be open with them. Don’t judge them. Don’t try to compete with them. Take the opportunity to be completely vulnerable and admit what you’re struggling with. They’ll be your biggest support.