As I held my newborn son in my arms, I had a moment of flashbacks. I remembered buying Mother’s Day cards for her but knowing she’d probably forget my birthday. I remember her always slurring her words during the few times she did call. I remember her showing up to my school and being embarrassed when she was escorted away because she was too drunk to stand. I remember the pain. I remember the crying. I remember the longing for a mom, but never having one.
And as I looked down on that tiny, precious, innocent face, I finally came to accept that my mother’s decisions were her own and had nothing to do with me. Children don’t ask to come into this world, and sadly too many are put into situations and families that they don’t deserve to be a part of. But now I was the mom and I would have to learn to be one without having a good example of my own.
My dad used to make the joke that you have to have a license to fish, to drive a car, to do pretty much anything, but anyone can have a kid. And although he always said it with some humor, it’s a sad truth. I am thankful that my dad raised me and that I had a very happy life despite my mother, but I would have loved to have a mom during all those major events. When I hit puberty and had so many questions, when I fell in love, when I got married, and in the moment when I was about to bring my newborn son home, I desperately wished I had a mother to teach me all I needed to know.
But unlike buying a car, or an electronic, parenthood doesn’t come with a manual. Being a mom is fueled by love, devotion, panic, and survival. I read every single parenting book in existence before I had my son, but as they wheeled me out of the hospital to my car, I had a moment of panic. Who is going to teach me to be a mom? Who am I going to call at 2 a.m. with all of my questions? Who is going to show me how to do all these things no one warns you about?
And in that moment, I decided no one was going to teach me, I was just going to have to figure it out and learn how to be a mom. And that is exactly what I did.
Thankfully, in this modern age, there are so many resources to a new mom like myself. I hired the in-home services of Moms On Call (lifesavers by the way) I watched videos, texted with friends who had children, and joined social media groups made up of moms (like My Atlanta Moms Club). As the old adage goes ‘it takes a village’ and although I may not have had an in-person village, I had plenty of virtual options.
One of the top lessons I learned is that there is no one right way. Every mother is different. Every family is different. Moms are doing what they know to be best for their children. But I also became very aware of the “mommy wars” and it saddens me when I see mothers judging each other so harshly. We may not do things the same, but I guarantee the love in our hearts for our children are the same, and that should be all that matters. If you breastfeed or bottle feed. If you cosleep or sleep train. If you cloth diaper or use disposable. None of it matters as long as your children are happy, thriving, and loved.
As someone who had a traumatic childhood, I can tell you firsthand that it didn’t matter to me what diaper I was in, or where I slept, I would have given anything for the love and attention of my mom. So before you judge a mother’s choice, take a moment to prioritize. Are her kids loved? Are they happy? If so, then the rest doesn’t matter. Motherhood should be a sisterhood. And we are all just learning to be moms the best we can.
