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.’
I’d been told motherhood was hard. ‘Toughest job in the world!’ they said.
I heard them. I believed it was hard … for them.
‘It won’t be like that for me,’ I thought. ‘I’m smart. I can do things. I’m a capable, successful woman.’
You can imagine my surprise when I learnt that being educated would mean nothing when it came to my parenting skills. I’m still in shock, to be honest.
My initiation into motherhood was a storm that gusted and howled at the sands of my soul—and its very first blow was to my ego.
Yelling at my little hurricane ‘I HAVE A MASTER’S DEGREE!’ (a super healthy thing to do) should’ve been a clue that I wasn’t coping with the complete loss of control or my inability to succeed.
One of the first truths of parenting I learnt was: you can’t study your way out of it.
Being a mother is not something you can learn from a book #irony #thanksforyourpurchase. Even though, technically, there is a manual for parenting. There are thousands of books and millions of internet pages. There’s more information on parenting than any human being could ever digest and it still won’t teach you how to actually be a parent.
Parenthood is one of those learn-on-the-job kinda gigs, like an apprenticeship. But it’s an apprenticeship that never really ends. You’re a lifelong trainee, constantly working towards, but never quite achieving full qualification.
But here’s the thing: YOU WILL (probably) SURVIVE. Sure, there’ll be days when you’ll start saying goodbye to your loved ones, convinced the end is near, but ultimately, you’ll pull through. You’ll be bruised and battered, like an overripe banana sitting in the bottom of your backpack, and pieces of you might break, fall off or disappear altogether, but YOU WILL SURVIVE. Probably. You might even thrive. Maybe.
Sharing your war stories is an excellent coping technique. Please note: this does not mean handing out unsolicited advice. Good lord, please don’t be one of those people. Those people are the ingrown toenails of the parenting world. Let’s all agree: we don’t tell anyone how to parent, but we can tell them our stories so they feel less alone.
So this is what I’m doing right now: letting you know some of the things you might not have been told about parenthood so that when you get there, you’ll know you’re not the only one going through it.
I’m also going to tell you stuff they’ve probably already told you, but you didn’t really believe. BELIEVE ME. It’s easier if you know …
But … who is ‘they’?
You know! The sprawling civilisation of They! It’s all of them. It’s your mum and your sisters and your aunties and your cousins. It’s your friends and your random colleague Sharon who has a sixteen-month-old child, so you know she’s an expert in all areas of child rearing and she really, really needs you to know everything she’s learnt. They are the movies and TV shows you’ve grown up watching.
And let’s not forget the experts—the parenting experts who can never agree on a goddamn thing, and the medical professionals who have a special talent for making you feel like an idiot every time you ask a question. And, of course, there’s the online world of forums, bloggers and social media where parenting is an extreme sport—a competition for likes and comments—where anonymity means everyone’s a target for the sanctimummy. She’s the sanctimonious mother who is absolutely perfect (in her unhumble opinion) and can’t wait to tell you why you’re doing it all wrong.
‘They’ are all the voices buzzing in your ear about parenthood. But you know what? None of them are giving you the full story.
But I will. I’m going to tell you the whole, real, glorious, uncomfortable and unforgiving truth about motherhood.
And the very first thing I want you to know is: EVERYTHING changes. Absolutely everything. Your life, your relationship, your friendships … you change. The minute a baby is placed in your arms, you start a journey of change, piece by piece, evolving until you are no longer just ‘you’, you are ‘mum’. It’s one of the most overwhelming, amazing and humbling experiences you’ll ever go through, and it can be bloody sobering to realise, a few months in, that this new world of yours is so incredibly irreversible.
Once your child is here, you’re a mother. For life.
But here’s the most important thing to know, and I want you to remember it as you read this book: most of us choose to do it all again. We whinge and complain about how hard it is, how exhausted we are, how inadequate we feel every damn day … and yet every one of us will tell you it’s worth it. They’re worth it.
SO worth it.