The Mums You Meet At Baby Class
Something I wrote as a brand new mum of one
Welcome to Baby Brain, a space where I – Charlotte, hi! – write about family life with three small children – Poppet (m, 5 years), Pickle (m, 3 years) and Peach (f, 1 year.) Those are not their real names. These are real stories from our days.
Assessing my digital clutter last night, I came across an old blog post. Written when I was a new mum (many eons ago) this post is not at all in my usual style. It’s not funny. I haven’t mastered the ‘right flow.’ It’s uncomfortably earnest and yet. And yet... The message this post conveys is so pure, so real, that I’ve decided to share it anyway. For any new mums out there that are struggling to find their place, this one is for you. It’s going to be OK ♥
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Look around the room in your first newborn baby class, and this is who you will see:
The ‘glam’ mum. She’s stunningly made up. Her clothes are devoid of refluxed milk. Her eyelashes perfectly extended. She is smiling at everyone and everyone is smiling at her, thinking ‘how does she do it?’
The ‘aloof’ mum. She doesn’t smile quite so much. Or at all, in fact. She’s brought her sister along to chat to because she’s far too cool to engage with the rest of the group. She has no baby weight. She’s unapologetically bottle feeding and you envy her that, scared as you are to bring out your own bottle in case someone questions your choice not to breastfeed
The ‘earthy’ mum. No make up. An air of joie de vivre and a humblebrag about her fabulous charity shop finds saving so much money, as you self consciously try to avert eyes from the obviously expensive romper that adorns your own child’s body. An impulse buy during pregnancy that now makes you feel foolish. Although, you admit, there’s no arguing that it’s cute
The ‘breastfeeding is my calling’ mum. Boobs out, sat off to the side, feeding her baby with her body as though it is all she was made to do
The ‘talkative’ mum. Confident, ready to make friends, fearless
And then there is you. Clueless, uncomfortable you, with your postpartum aches and your tired eyes. You are not as good at this as they all are. You are the failure in this room.
Then you blink.
You look again.
And suddenly the scene has changed.
Out of nowhere, the glam mum looks lonely. Her baby is barely two weeks old, she tells you. She just moved to the area and her closest support is 2 hours away. She’s glamorous, yes, but those beautiful eyelashes were applied pre-birth, and she’s just as ready for a nap as you are
The aloof mum, with her sisterly support, is anxious about not making friends. Her bottle is filled with breast milk, exhaustively pumped 8 times a day after her tongue-tied baby did a number on her nipples, leaving her unable to wear a bra without silverette cups, let alone to feed
The earthy mum, looking around the room herself, noticed her baby was the only one whose outfit looked a little, to her eyes only, bedraggled. She fears the judgment of others. Happy with her choice to be thrifty, she nonetheless wants to make a good impression, and regrets the flash of panic in her neighbours’ eyes as she overcompensated the response to a question no-one asked
The breastfeeding mum, siloed, is deflated, hoping someone will offer her a cup of tea when the kettle has finished its boil
The talkative mum, quite simply, needs someone to listen
And you? You are one of them.
These women, these amazing, exhausted women are not, you realise, the enemy. And over the weeks, they start to shine. Baby classes become a lifeline, a place to say ‘does yours….’ as several nodding heads shout ‘oh my god I thought it was just us!’ Other mothers become, in a way you feared they never would, your people. They are the ones you WhatsApp at 4am, the ones you call when something goes wrong, the ones that pick you up when you have a ‘bad mum’ day. The ones that make you realise your struggles are not entirely unique, you are not in this alone, and you are not, as we so often tell ourselves, failing.
They are even, as time goes on, the ones you share your wine with.
And all you have to do is say hello.
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Until next time 🍷
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I love this. I wonder what “type” of mom they might have thought you were at first!
I teared up reading this! We feel so self-conscious and can’t help but compare ourselves in early motherhood. I love how you open the doors of each stereotype to humanize that particular “kind” of mother, and, in doing so, reveal to the reader how *she* might be perceived. The piece also connects us and, like another comment said, illustrates how motherhood is the great equalizer. Okay that was a long way of saying I’m glad you shared this here! :)