Remember the moment you found out you were pregnant? The moment when becoming a mother truly hit your heart, and every emotion flooded you like a wave?
I think most women dream of the day they become a mom. The moment you hold your beautiful baby for the first time. There is so much build up to this big event it’s probably the second most fantasized celebration in a girl’s life. For generations, women have prepared and tailored their daughters to be wives, to be mothers, and to do it well. By nature, women were built to be nurturers, lovers, and builders of emotional foundations. So, motherhood comes naturally for most. Others, well it doesn’t always just come easily.
During my first pregnancy, since I had no idea what to expect, I found myself reading every book about labor, motherhood, infants, toddlers and everything else around motherhood. I found myself watching every woman I seen in public with their kids. I studied their intentions, and how they handled situations. By the time I finally gave birth to my daughter I felt like I had a pretty good idea of what I needed to do. I went into motherhood with the motivation of being a “supermom,” the perfect mom.
I had everything planned out. I only wanted the best of the best for my girl, as I’m sure each of us does. Not only did I want the very best for her, but I was going to be the best at everything too.
In the society we live in today, between social media, Hollywood’s impressed image, and Photoshop techniques, the mask of perfectionism is heavy weighing.
My first year of motherhood was grueling because of it. I often compared myself to every “perfect” mother I met, and with every picture and story, I read on social media. I was forever tripping over my own judgments of other mothers and their perfect families, that I was barely experiencing my own. Failure after failure hit me in the face and reality eventually came knocking. Honestly, it was exhausting.
One day at the park I met a woman, who after I had vented my exhausted burdens on failing to be the perfect mom, told me I had to stop comparing my insides to someone else’s outsides.
She went on to illustrate that so many moms don’t leave their houses without being in finished form, with their makeup done and perfectly placed hair. That these women tend to post only filtered pictures of them and their perfect families, making sure that there is not a single blur in sight; all of this done to avoid imperfections, and those imperfections being seen by someone on the outside.
At some point we all wear a mask to cover up some part of our lives, and publish the perfect pieces, the thing to remember in this crazy, ambitious walk of life, is to take off the mask and stop comparing ourselves to something that doesn’t exist: Perfectionism.
The raw, unfiltered places in our lives are where life truly happens. Where love grows. Where healing from pain becomes a legacy. Where a physical scar becomes the center of a lifesaving testimony. All of which we shouldn’t hide from or be ashamed of. These imperfections are what make us who we are, and we miss so much going on in life when we are so busy wrapped up in trying to put on the fake face of perfectionism.
That day something changed inside me and I knew I no longer could compare myself, my kids or our lives to others because what I was striving for just did not exist.
I had gotten really good at judging others and feeling like a failure, but since that day in the park, I have mastered living in the reality that I will never be a perfect mom.
I know that many moms have put themselves through what I did, or are currently doing it right this second, and on this platform, we will let the truth loose: “WE ARE NOT PERFECT,” and guess what? It’s okay, we don’t need to be!
Do you know any moms who could use the news that we don’t have to be pefect? Or mom’s who may need a reminder? Let’s get this truth out there!
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