There is a silent war raging between mothers. It's a war that only becomes evident once you cross the threshold into motherhood.
It's a war like non other. Cold, judgemental statements masked behind a polite smile and an expression of faked concern.
The battle grounds are endless. Formula, nursing, diapering choices, working outside the home or staying home, introduction of solid foods, baby carrying, carseat safety, discipline styles, potty training, homeschooling. These are just a few of the topics that contain land mines. I am beginning to think it's impossible to name them all.
Let me stop right here.
I have to first confess that I have marched in the army of Mommy Wars.
"I can't believe she's already on solid foods". Sounds harmful enough, but it is code for "
She's too early for that. You're not playing by the pediatrician's rules in the food department."
If I have ever thrown grenades your way, I am so sorry.
This topic came up between a friend and I during a recent play date. She referred to it as 'Mommy Vietnam'. The moment you have a child, you are drafted.
I like to think of it as the Cold War. Judgemental glances, stabbing opinions. Carrying monogrammed diaper bags containing hand grenades. All while smiling.
It actually starts before birth. When others find out you are pregnant, they feel the need to give their opinions on different aspects of raising a child. The problem is, often they aren't really 'opinions'. Instead, it's more of a statement of the right way to do something, and you are expected to follow suite.
Not everyone engages in such warfare. I'm not trying to throw anyone who has ever given advice under the bus. Instead, I'm calling out the soldiers who use such statements to belittle someone while trying to prove they are the perfect candidate for Mommy of the Century. The moms who are arrogant with their advice.
"I had a natural birth". "Organic baby food is what loving parents choose." "Little Charlie was walking at six months." On and on it goes.
Every child is different, a unique masterpiece created by God. There is not a one size-fits-all to parenting. I'm so thankful for that, because I like having options to choose from.
I am never going to be the mom that uses cloth diapers.
I worked outside the home during my daughter's first year.
My daughter, along with millions of others, grew up on Gerber and did just fine. I never once considered making fresh, organic baby food.
I had such a desire to nurse my daughter, and did so for almost two months. In the end, I did what was best for our family by putting her on formula. I was criticized by some for doing so. Even recently I had someone who is still nursing ask how long I nursed. When my answer proved to her that she has surpassed me and is still nursing her almost one year old, I saw it. The smug look of a mother engaging in warfare. The judgement.
The judgement is unwarranted. She, and others, never knew the hidden story. I battled a severe case of Post Partum Depression. Pair that with changing jobs and a life turned upside down and you get a small hint of the personal darkness I faced while trying to navigate this new world of motherhood.
That's right. I said it.
Post partum depression. The baby blues. Not long after having my daughter, I spent the day with my sweet friend,
T. I can still vividly see her concern for me as I sobbed, while she held my daughter in front of me, trying to show me just how blessed I was as a means to end my pain.
I knew I was blessed. My husband and I had prayed for 2.5 years for a baby, then went into labor at 23 weeks, almost losing our precious gift. It wasn't that I didn't know. No amount of knowledge would end the tears.
Due to the stigma that surrounds it, I tried to keep it hidden. I didn't want to give the enemy moms a reason to fire missiles my way. At my six week checkup, I had the perfect hair and makeup and the biggest smile to try and hide it from my doctor. When the question was asked, I brushed it off with a smile and said that I had bounced right back physically and emotionally. I tried to battle it silently until that October, when close friends and family intervened. By that time I had been battling for six months. I was put on medication that helped tremendously, but it wasn't until Mary Grace turned one that I felt the shadows receding. Now I am unashamed because I know it was not that I didn't love my daughter enough, it wasn't because I was failing as a mom. It was completely out of my control.
Not long ago a family member confided in me that she was so concerned, she called my husband almost daily while he was at work to check on us.
Aren't we as mothers bombarded enough by the media, without having to
harm each other, too? We are told to lose our baby weight before we even
give birth, that our children should look and behave a certain way, that
we should be superwoman in every way, that perfection isn't an option-
it's a requirement.
Ladies, we have to put a stop to the Mommy Wars. We have to commit to pulling out of the battle and retreating with a white flag of surrender. We are all mother's who love our children and truly want the very best for them. And only we, as the mother, truly know what is best for our own child, and our own family.
I've wanted to speak out on this for a while, but feared the backlash. When I came across the Mommy Wars photos, I knew I needed to break the silence.
You may agree, you may not. But please, be kind with your comments.
To see the rest of the Mommy Wars photographs, please visit
this link.
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