Amanda Spohr was convinced she was going to be the perfect mother. Needless to say, she set herself up for failure. She explains how she came to terms with this.
The mother I thought I’d be and the one I am:
I thought I would be a natural – starting with the birth, which I was certain would involve minimal medical intervention. I would feel totally relaxed and confident in my role as mother. Breast feed for two years. Even do my bit for the environment with cloth nappies (I know, you don’t have to say it …)
I would space my two children’s births perfectly to ensure their optimal development. Sing them lullabies and read them educational books. Never give them sweets to shut them up or send them to bed with unbrushed teeth. Never screech at them in anger, or hide from them in fear. And I would certainly never spend more time at work than with them.
Why I had this unrealistic vision of myself as a mother, I have no idea. There are mothers out there that manage to meet these high standards; there’s just no rational explanation as to why I thought I would be one of them. I have certainly never aspired to or expected the same level of perfection in any other aspect of my life.
It was the arrogance of the ignorant, I guess.
I set myself up for failure, and no other failure in my life has been quite as difficult for me to accept.
Two of my three pregnancies, while not unwelcome, were unplanned. My eldest girls were born just 15 months apart, and all of my pregnancies ended in C-sections. The longest I managed to breastfeed was nine months. I have filled an entire landfill site with disposable nappies. My children have by now eaten their own body weight in sweets – my guilty compensation for the many times I have shouted at them because I was grumpy and the few times I’ve actually cowered in the bathroom praying they wouldn’t find me.
I’m proud to say I have sung many, many lullabies and read even more stories and kissed better so many einas, but I’ve also been at work far too often when I should have been with them instead.
Long story short: I wasn’t a natural and it’s taken me a decade of imperfect parenting to come to terms with it.
I think so many of my expectations were around what I believed mothers should do, rather than what they should be.
And I have come to see, despite my failings and my constant feelings of guilt, that I am to my three precious daughters what they need me to be – a source of unconditional love, a sounding board, a safe place to fall.
I believe now that my children desperately need me to be human, so that they have permission to be human too. They do look to me for guidance, advice and security. But they also see in me someone who can make mistakes and admit them, who can lose my way but find it again, who can persevere through adversity and unmet expectations, and survive my own imperfection. They need me to be fallible, so one day they’ll be equipped to handle life’s disappointments too.
Well that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. What’s yours? Share it with us below.
(Amanda Spohr is a Reputation Management Executive at BrightRock.)
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