'I worry how I'll fit in my circle of friends now I'm 'just' a mum'
Heather Ness is a blogger at The Imperfectly Perfect Parent and a full-time mum to Molly and Emily. Here she shares how her life has changed since becoming a mother.
A few months ago, I found myself standing in front of a mirror, wearing eyeliner and way too much bronzer for the first time in years – I later discovered this has been replaced with highlighting.
Either way, I was shiny as f*ck and fitting right in.
I had boldly chosen to wear a bodysuit with no bra because, finally, after eight months of breastfeeding, my boobs were no longer leaking milk every five minutes.
They were also still looking pretty pert and I was naively unaware they had not quite started to eat themselves yet.
I stood comparing myself to my bachelorette best friend.
I felt so insecure and so out my depth.
I have spent many of my years being made to believe I was never enough.
In my head, she was sex on legs and I was legs on a mince pie.
I very rarely see my friends now and without fail, no matter how much I love them, miss them and long to be with them – I get scared wondering how I'll fit in our circle now I've changed so very much.
I had bags under my eyes. My hair was sticking to my head. I didn't have time to wash it, so it got whipped up in my mastered mum tail.
Before I knew it, I was explaining to her how sex worked after kids or didn't for a long time in our case.
Then as I do, I thought f*ck it – tonight's the night.
I then realised that operation untamed grass to Indian stone patio had not been reinforced since baby had set up camp in my womb.
So there I am, attempting to be just as sexy as my friend by sitting straddling her bog with her electric men's razor to avoid any work debris.
I was wearing three inch heels because after two plus years of sticking to Uggs and Nikes, my ankles don't quite have the muscle memory that my cervix apparently has.
My tan stopped just below my rib cage and the top of my back – kind of like a drumstick lolly. Then filled with anxiety and self doubt, I said it…
"I just look like a mum…"
As soon as I uttered the words, I felt guilty.
I wanted to be back at home with my babies, in my joggies and one of my ten grey jumpers (that I remind my husband I need every one of), feeling every ounce of gratitude for having everything I have.
At first I said that sentence thinking it was not a good thing.
Seconds later, however, every bone in my body knew my tone was wrong.
I should have said with confidence…
"I am a mum…"
For all the dishevelled parts of me told a far more beautiful story than any Anastasia Beverly hills palette, Hollywood lashes or highlighter ever could.
The awkward waddle in my heels, the heavy bags under my eyes, the some what-nervous disposition – all carried one of the most sexiest traits there is.
STRENGTH
If you meet a mum out – tell her all the things she wants to hear.
"You look amazing"
"Your kids will be fine"
"You are an incredible mum, who deserves to have some 'you' time!"
Don't push her – don't expect her to be dancing on the tables like she did five years before or throw shots back the way she used to (although she still probably will).
Let her feel like she can be her – the new her – because motherhood does change you.
If she misses her babies, understand her and let her waddle home early in her three inch heels, but if she looks like she's having the time of her life, let her (after confirmation there's a babysitter to weigh in the following day though).
Planning a night out as a mum, is not just about Mum.
It's not just about the personal body hang ups or the worry of being in a social scene that's now completely foreign to her.
It's the concern for the kids, the house and who she must trust to leave her kids with, her whole entire world.
It's the "what if" of letting loose, it's repercussions of taking a few hours just for her.
I know as a "stay at home mum" (f*cking hate that term) hundreds of miles from close family and friends, that my 'adulting' social skills have somewhat evaporated.
My days consist of cooking multiple meals, nursing babies to sleep, sitting on the bathroom floor making songs up about poo and telling magical (sometimes Disney plagiarized) stories while the toddler takes a 30 minute pee.
I walk in the rain, count the cars and point out fairy houses.
I am a dab hand at making a Gruffalo out of the brown Play Doh that my daughter spent many an hour turning five colours into.
There are moments where I find time to have adult interaction in the form of Instagram and Facebook, which I am convinced my children believe is where my friends all live.
You know what? Some of them actually do! (Your comments about my day, the kids and our antics genuinely help to keep a lonely mum sane – thank you and please keep the conversations coming).
I, for the most part, love my bubble.
I feel utterly privileged that I get to choose to be in my children's lives 100 percent of the time; I have huge respect to those who want what I have but don't have a choice.
I've never been a person to need a large social circle or a high flying career, so this life suits me – it was made for me.
Admittedly, I did always picture myself working with animals but, hey, there are days where I feel I am doing just that!
I truly feel my children and husband gave me a purpose to a life I was very much lost in.
With that aside, I am only human and human interaction with people who share my values at times is nice too but sometimes really friggin' daunting.
I very often belittle myself and wonder if I am "worthy" of making friends with others since I became a mum.
Having little self-esteem already, becoming a full-time mum and disconnecting nearly entirely to the social circle I was once in, has left me even less confidence.
The more I think "I am just a mum" in my head, the more my whole body gets angry; the more I want to fight back and shout "I AM a mum, I am a f*cking FANTASTIC mum".
Honestly, I think many of us parents are guilty of not saying this to ourselves more.
I almost feel it's an insult to my children constantly telling myself I am just a mum.
I'm unsure how many mums who stay at home with their children are like me; who instantly talk down their day-to-day role or make up excuses as to why they chose to stay at home with the kids.
My children are amazing: they are beautiful, they have manners and brains.
My two-year-old has honestly been the most kind and understanding of souls: she's never screamed at me, lashed out at me or retaliated when I've said no – whether I want to take credit for it or not, that's my daughters.
Scientifically speaking, I made them; factually, I nurtured them and I have taught them everything they know.
So if I am just a mum, that would make my children just children and that, they definitely are not.
They are absolutely breathtaking in every way.
They are little balls of pure joy, they are miracles. So why do I find it so hard to believe I might be a little bit amazing too?
To read Heather's FULL blog post, click here.