Amanda is a childhood friend of mine and a first time mother. She juggles motherhood, a home-based business with Arbonne and expresses a passion for art. She resides in Toronto with her husband, Mike and their 4 month old son, Murray.
The battle of the Momzilla
There were few things that scared me about becoming a parent. I wasn’t fussed about pregnancy, or even giving birth. After all, we have been doing it for millions of years, I was sure I could handle it. Right up there, however, in the top 5 things that scared me about being a mom, was the battles that ensue between other moms – bullying, judgment, infliction of guilt over the cruelty of exposing your newborn to non organic cotton, soothers, rock music, you name it.
My husband and I had countless discussions over the course of our pregnancy on how we were going to do this parenting thing – Breastfeeding, disposable diapers, feeding on demand, and perhaps most important, no co-sleeping. Under no circumstances. In his own bed, that is what is best. After all, co-sleepers end up being co-sleeping, sooky 8 year olds., and before you know it, you don’t even know what the other adult looks like naked, it has been so long since you have actually slept together without another wee human in between you.
My husband and I had countless discussions over the course of our pregnancy on how we were going to do this parenting thing – Breastfeeding, disposable diapers, feeding on demand, and perhaps most important, no co-sleeping. Under no circumstances. In his own bed, that is what is best. After all, co-sleepers end up being co-sleeping, sooky 8 year olds., and before you know it, you don’t even know what the other adult looks like naked, it has been so long since you have actually slept together without another wee human in between you.
We had our little boy in November, and I prepared myself for battle. The battle of the Momzilla. I was skeptical to even enter the world of “mommy meet ups”, but being a social animal, knew it would be a long winter if I didn’t at least give it a go.
So, I entered the ring. I listened with “sympathy” and secretive pride at the stories of sleepless co-sleeping nights, the other parent in a totally different room; latching problems, feeding positions. I waited for the looks of disdain and judgment as I pulled out my earth filling disposable diapers. Held my breath for “tsks” as I tentatively shared that I left my son alone in his crib while showering, and left him upstairs at bedtime, had never laid down while feeding. But those “tsks”, those judgmental looks, never came.
And then it hit me. I was the Momzilla. I had an idea in my head, as much as I said I didn’t, that my parenting was the right way. That somehow, I had the correct manual on how to raise a human being. My opinions melted away, and for the first time, really listened to the experiences of others.
Cloth diapers are environmentally great, and not that inconvenient. Did you know that some daycares don’t allow kids to use them while in their care? And it is the best way.
Sometimes breastfeeding doesn’t work. And then the baby drinks formula, and it is the best way. Moms go back to work, leave their kids with a nanny, breast pump every two hours in their power suit in the office bathroom stall, and see their kids on weekends. And this is the best way.
And some parents co-sleep. They wake up everyday with that little person snuggled so close, feeling safe and warm until they are ready to go to their own bed on their own, and their family is all there, in the bed, together. And this is the best way.
I am now so grateful to be a part of a group of strong, courageous, fun, loving new moms. There are late night/ early morning texts of panic or celebration, tears, belly shaking laughter, strolls in the park. We talk about our babies, about other things besides our babies. We drink beer. We watch 50 Shades of Grey. We leave our judgments at the door.
And we know that we are the best mom. Each and every one of us. We are the best mom.
