When I was expecting my first child, Alex, I felt radiant. From the moment I discovered I was pregnant, I was certain of his name and knew he would be a boy. A close friend captured beautiful maternity photos of my growing belly. I read to him, sang sweet lullabies, and prayed for his journey into the world. I dreamed of a joyful introduction to life.
However, not everyone around me shared the same excitement about the changes that parenthood brings. A consensus among my childless friends was that parents often used their kids as excuses to leave gatherings early or retire for the night at an unreasonably early hour. I was determined not to become that kind of parent.
After a long and challenging labor, I welcomed Alex into the world at 1:01 a.m. on a Tuesday. I was utterly exhausted but filled with joy as I gazed at him. He was softer and fairer than I had envisioned—perfectly formed with a cute nose, full lips, and his father’s chin. He radiated happiness, yet I didn’t feel like a mother.
As the months flew by, I realized it wasn’t just fatigue that held me back from embracing motherhood; it was fear. In my eagerness to defy my friends’ expectations, I accepted every invitation and said yes to everything, while neglecting my own maternal instincts. Visitors began arriving at the hospital just hours after Alex’s birth, and by the time we returned home, I was hosting a gathering of over twenty friends. I broke down in tears from exhaustion just days later, yet I still brought my newborn to church, determined to show everyone I was not using him as a reason to hide from life.
Seven weeks postpartum, I returned to work, feeling the weight of responsibility. I tried hard not to cry as I left him and his father peacefully sleeping, heading to work in the dark of dawn. I smiled at photos of him but didn’t allow myself to shed tears. I feared that if I did, I might lose myself to the overwhelming emotions of motherhood.
After two years of squeezing motherhood into the cracks of my life, I finally had to confront the truth: motherhood had transformed me. I couldn’t maintain my previous pace while being fully present for my child. Accepting the loss of my pre-parent life was painful, but I understood that acknowledging the tough feelings would also allow me to experience the joy of parenting. It was in embracing those feelings that I discovered the true rewards of motherhood.
When I became pregnant with my second child, I made a conscious choice to prioritize what truly mattered. I embraced the power of saying no. Labor began on Maundy Thursday, and as Alex and my partner, Jake, decorated Easter eggs, I found comfort in quiet stillness. I remained in one place throughout labor, breathing through the experience, and when it was over, it became a cherished memory.
Although breastfeeding posed challenges, I sought help, and my fellow mothers supported me by bringing meals and respecting my need for a peaceful home. I declined hospital visitors and created a serene atmosphere for my newborn. As I rested, I began to feel the deep connection to motherhood. Returning to work was easier this time; I didn’t cry, but I nurtured a growing sense of gentleness in my heart.
Ultimately, embracing motherhood and finding joy in the experience stemmed from allowing myself to prioritize my children. I learned to say no to distractions that didn’t serve my family.
To all new mothers out there, I offer this crucial piece of permission: trust your instincts, and prioritize what is best for you and your child. After giving birth, you are entitled to decline visitors and well-wishers. Just because someone brings a meal or offers help doesn’t mean you owe them lengthy conversations or even the chance to hold your baby. No one should make you feel guilty for taking the time you need to bond with your newborn, and it’s perfectly okay to skip social events until you feel ready to rejoin the world.
I wish I had not allowed the opinions of those without children to dictate my parenting choices. I wish I had ignored the judgment of others when I needed to leave a gathering early. Children have their own schedules, and as parents, we must honor those. Set boundaries with those who are unhelpful; they are not true friends. If those who visit are more of a burden than a blessing, it is your right to say no.
The boundaries we establish are essential for protecting the well-being of our loved ones. We have the power to decide who is welcome in our space, how long they can stay, and when we need to prioritize our own needs. And if expressing this feels overwhelming, enlist the support of a partner or a trusted friend to help communicate your needs.
So, dear mothers, here is your permission: take a step back, stay in the comfort of your home, accept help, and create a nurturing space for you and your baby. The world will continue to move without you for a moment, and when you are ready, it will still be here.
Summary
This blog post offers newly minted mothers a heartfelt message about the importance of trusting their instincts and prioritizing their family’s needs. It emphasizes the necessity of setting boundaries with visitors and the freedom to say no to social obligations, encouraging mothers to embrace both the challenges and joys of motherhood.