Dear mommy, you're doing it all wrong.

Charina Urban
Apr 4, 2017
4 min read

As moms, I truly believe we have an inherent desire to do right by our kids. To provide them with everything they need and to be the person they can always rely on. But somewhere amidst the mountains of diapers, throw out tantrums, and sleepless nights, we find ourselves questioning every motherhood move we make. Did I do this right? Should I have done that instead? What if, what if, what if?

We are trampled everyday with mommy tips and requirements for the perfectly well-behaved, intelligent child specimen. We seek out advice and burden ourselves with expectations for what successful motherhood looks like. And when we don't live up to those expectations or fail to provide what every online professional mom says we should, we conclude that we are terrible people unfit to even select the "right" kind of nourishment for our babes.

According to the professional world of motherhood, I am one such mom who so far has done EVERYTHING wrong.

When I was about eight months pregnant my OB/GYN told me my son was measuring big, about two weeks ahead of time. He said we'd keep an eye on it just in case we needed to develop an alternate birth plan. The closer my due date got, the bigger Paxton became and the more real the possibility of a C-Section looked. A few days before I was due, I still hadn't dilated and I showed no signs of delivering any time soon. My doctor became concerned that even if I did go into labor, Paxton would be too big for me to deliver vaginally. And so on September 19th, 2016 at noon I was wheeled back into an operating room and sliced open. Paxton entered this world via C-Section and a suction cup weighing 9 pounds 3 ounces.

According to my doctor there's no safe way I could have delivered Pax vaginally, but according to the experts of birth, I took the easy way out and didn't actually give birth. I couldn't pee by myself for five days. I couldn't walk by myself for a week. I couldn't shower on my own for two weeks. I have a large purple scar across my lower abdomen. But I did it wrong. In fact, I didn't give birth at all. I was a mom-fail from day one.

I tried to breast feed my baby. I really really tried. I had a lactation specialist help me, I used a plastic little nipple extender, and I prayed. But after three weeks of excruciating pain, cracking, and bleeding I just couldn't do it anymore. My nipples weren't big enough for Pax to latch onto and it just wasn't working. I had to stop breastfeeding. Mom-fail number two. How was I going to bond with my son if I couldn't even breastfeed him?

So I pumped instead. And for a few weeks that worked. Until my precious baby boy needed more milk than I could give him. I pumped every two hours and still could only produce an ounce or two. So to keep my baby from starving, I did the unthinkable. I got him formula. Oh I cried. I cried and felt like a complete failure. Some women had freezers full of milk and I couldn't even make enough to feed my baby for a day. I stood in the kitchen sobbing as my husband made that first bottle of formula. How was my baby supposed to get all the nutrients he needed and grow up to be an intelligent and contributing member of society without exclusively drinking breast milk? Mom-fail number three.

Six weeks after my baby was born, I had to go back to work. In order to help financially provide for my son and our family, I had to work full time. So off to daycare he went. That morning I was inconsolable. I did not want to leave him and I didn't want anyone else to take care of him. But I didn't have a choice. I cried the whole drive to work and had to sniffle back a few tears throughout the day. How could I let someone else take care of my baby all day long? Mom-fail number four.

I am more than sure I will continue to make mom-fails in the eyes of others for the rest of my life. But I am slowly learning that motherhood is not a one-size fits all cookie cutter program that must be adhered too. And absolutely no woman should ever have to stand in her kitchen crying and be made to feel like a failure for choosing to do what's best for her child. Motherhood is an adventure full of joys and sorrows that requires quick thinking and decisions to be made every day. Motherhood and our attempts at it should be celebrated; not scrutinized.

At the end of the day all I really want my child to know is that I tried. I tried my hardest everyday to be a good mom to him and give him everything he could ever need. And if I mom-fail while trying, at least he will know it's okay to fail. - as long as you just keep trying.