You Are A Good Mom (On Self-Kindness)

Photo credit: Anna Ligocki Photography

“You are so careless,” I thought to myself as I cried.

“Brian (my husband) doesn’t make any mistakes like this. You are always making mistakes like this! What is wrong with you? Why can’t you be a good mom?  You’ve always been careless. That’s what she (my daughter) is going to remember: your carelessness.”

My inner dialogue as a new mom could be scathing and cruel. It was routine, unforgiving, and the weight of my criticism was more overwhelming than the task of being a new mom.

Maybe it was the hormones; maybe it was the self-doubt; maybe it was the fact that my 6lb fragile baby came with no instructions, and the truth is that it is not all intuitive. Maybe I was internalizing my struggles with breast-feeding; maybe I was reconciling the kind of mom I thought I would be with my reality; maybe I was sleep deprived and catering to everyone but myself. Maybe I have always been self-critical and have always imposed an unreasonable standard of self-accountability. Maybe my inner voice has always been sharp and the pressures of being a new mom tipped me over the edge.

Whatever the reason, my inner dialogue as a new mom was destructive and circulatory. It continued to chip away at my self-esteem and ensured that I had the same inner dialogue over and over.

I wasn’t in a good place. I was convinced I had postpartum depression. Accordingly, I sought out a professional at Blooma.

She was another mom, naturally, and she gave me transformative advice. She said, “What would you say to your daughter? If your daughter came to you in these situations, what would you say to her? What would your mom say to you? You should be speaking to yourself with the same gentleness you give your daughter.”

I cried immediately, feeling so ashamed at how I talked to myself, never wanting anyone to talk to my daughter that way, and knowing that my mom would never talk to me like that.

So now when I talk to myself after a setback, I use my softest tone, saturated with love and acceptance. Like a reassuring bear hug.

I think, “Oh sweetheart, you are a good mom.”

I continue, “If you only knew what I know, you would know that YOU ARE A GOOD MOM. You need to be easier on yourself. Kinder. You are a new mom and this is not easy. You need to forgive yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. You are trying to do too much at once. Slow down. Slowing down is okay. Go steal a kiss from your baby. Be kind to yourself. Take a hot bath. A walk. Relax. It will get better.”

It worked. Slowly but surely my inner dialogue got kinder and my self-esteem improved. It improved through similar dialogues with other moms too.

Tear-stained at work one day, another mom asked me what was wrong. I confided in her that I was having trouble with work-mom balance. “It’s such a hard transition,” she consoled me. “But you will get the hang of it. Your daughter will be fine and so will you. You are a good mom, don’t worry about it.”

In that exchange, I learned that reassurance from other moms was just as valuable as my own self-assurance. Their affirmations influenced me. I listened to their recognition that I was a good mom; I believed them; and I grew sturdier as I heard them.

There is little danger in telling another mom that she is a good mom. Every mom is trying to do right by her child. Even the moms who make really horrible decisions should not be defined by their decisions. Moreover, I think that most times, truly terrible parenting decisions are driven by past abuse or addiction.

So now whenever I talk to a new mom, I try and share with her that I had a tough time at first. I try and tell her that it gets better. I try and radiate confidence so that my (new) confidence influences and builds her confidence. I try and tell her, “You are a good mom.”

I will always be self-critical. It drives my successes and it’s a part of who I am. But as a mom, and for my mom, I am kinder and more compassionate to myself.