Dear Moms of My Past,
To the mothers I critiqued for opting for a C-section, I now understand that it’s not simply an easy way out.
To the mothers I questioned for not breastfeeding, I’ve learned that sometimes babies just don’t latch and pumping can be a struggle.
To the mothers I scorned for their chronic tardiness, I now realize how challenging it is to get out the door with a little one in tow.
To the mothers I criticized for choosing processed foods, I now get that sometimes you need to grab the quickest option to keep your child happy and fed.
To the mothers I judged for their disheveled appearance, I now empathize with you. A baby tugging at your hair and the overwhelming demands of motherhood can leave little time for self-care.
To the mothers I looked down upon for their laundry situations, I now know that when you have a toddler, keeping clothes clean can feel impossible unless you change right before stepping out.
To the mothers I dismissed for their anxiety over their baby getting sick, I’ve come to understand the heartache of holding a sick child who needs you close.
To the mothers I frowned upon for their messy homes, I now see that maintaining a clean house while raising kids is often a battle you can’t win.
To the mothers I critiqued for worrying too much, I now understand that the fear of losing someone you love can be paralyzing.
To the mothers I judged for organizing their schedules around nap times, I now appreciate that those moments of peace are often the only time you get for yourself.
To the mothers I thought were breastfeeding “too long,” I now realize the deep physical and emotional bond that breastfeeding fosters for both mom and baby.
To the mothers I questioned for their social lives, I now know what relentless exhaustion feels like.
To the mothers I criticized for placing their children in daycare, I now understand how isolating it can be to care for a baby at home alone all day.
To the mothers I looked down on for not rear-facing their kids long enough, I now sympathize with the struggle of a screaming child in the backseat for a long ride.
To the mothers who didn’t vaccinate, I know now how distressing it can be to witness a negative reaction to a vaccine.
To the mothers I judged for underdressing their babies, I understand how nearly impossible it is to keep hats and socks on a squirming child.
To the mothers I critiqued for facing postpartum depression, I now see how challenging it can be to navigate those overwhelming feelings and hormonal changes.
To the mothers I dismissed for being on their phones, I now realize that sometimes that device is your only lifeline to the outside world.
To the mothers I judged for their eating habits during pregnancy, I now know how a simple cheeseburger can make everything feel right when you’re battling nausea.
To the mothers I criticized for choosing unique names for their children, I understand how significant a name can be to a family’s identity.
To the mothers I judged for weaning too early, I now recognize how mentally draining it can be when you feel like you can’t get a moment away from your child.
To the mothers I dismissed for having a colicky baby, I now know that sometimes, no matter what you do, there’s no soothing a crying child.
Dear moms of my past, I’ve learned that you were simply doing your best for your little ones. Thank you for your patience with my earlier judgments.
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In summary, it’s important to embrace the diverse experiences and challenges that come with motherhood, recognizing that each mom is navigating her own unique journey.