The wonderful weirdness of becoming a mom

Posted on 29 January 2018

By parenting blogger, Chereen Strydom.

For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of becoming a mom. I grew up with four younger brothers and watched my mother go about the business of parenting with relative ease. She made motherhood look like the simplest, most natural thing in the world.

I had no doubt I would be an excellent mother. The best. I had visions of popping my adorable baby into his carrier and heading out to direct photo shoots while he snoozed peacefully. I’d dress him up in tasteful matching outfits and take him along to brunch with my girlfriends, and spend Sunday mornings lazing on the couch, catching up on stupid TV shows while waiting for baby to wake up from his long nap. I couldn’t wait to become a mother, and if pregnancy was anything to go by, motherhood was going to be a breeze.

Yes, I was one of the rare few who didn’t experience any morning sickness, and my pregnancy was free from major complications. I couldn’t wait to show off my bump, but didn’t start showing until I was about 16 weeks along, and I only put on about nine kilograms throughout my pregnancy.

My biggest source of disquiet? The fact that my body and my decisions suddenly became hot topics up for discussion amongst friends, family members, and even strangers in the grocery queue.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to know whether I was planning to breastfeed, and my growing bump became public property as all and sundry insisted on feeling my baby kick. Well-meaning old ladies warned me not to lift my arms above my head to take down the laundry, and I even got tut-tutted by fellow patrons when walking out of a coffee shop with a takeaway coffee cup in tow – never mind that the cup contained rooibos tea.

Pregnancy is a virtual minefield of unsolicited advice and well-intentioned warnings. Craving a peanut butter sandwich? No doubt someone’s brother’s-wife’s-cousin’s-aunty’s friend gave birth to a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle after eating peanut butter, so best you stay clear.

In the end, my husband and I ended up doing the exact opposite of what most people considered best practice – not for the sake of being rebellious, but because those specific “wrong” choices were what worked best for our little family. Our baby was born via C-section and I breastfed my son for three years and two months.

We got a lot of disapproval for these decisions and it bothered me at first. As time wore on and I became accustomed to my brand-new little person and my own abilities as a mother, I slowly started to drown out the noise and trust my own instincts.

As it turns out, being a mom isn’t nearly as easy as I dreamed it would be, but it became a whole lot less challenging the minute I stopped focusing on what other people thought. I put down the parenting books and started picking up on my baby’s cues instead. It took months of worrying about what I was doing wrong to realise that, actually, as long as my baby was safe, secure, loved and fed, I was doing everything right.