We all know one million judges. We all go one million ways. One million brains. One million mothers. One million compassionate souls. One million needs. One million spenders, one million savers. One million mums who think they might have gone too far, one million mums who think they haven’t done enough. One million melting hearts. One million ways to raise a tiny human…

One billion worries.

To you all, the ones who own the superpower of giving birth…

Yet I now understand that your 2 hours home birth was the most natural experience you’ve truly enjoyed and why you are always elated to share it with the others around you. You’re proud of yourself. You feel lucky and accomplished. Mine was a bit different. It included three doctors, two anaesthetists, three nurses and one utterly shocked own mother at the sight of an injection with a needle the size of a baseball bat which went down my spine after pretty much three outlandish fun days of labour – while still trying to refuse a c-section. So I wouldn’t get judged by other brave mums like you who tried their best to offer the perfect start in their bundles’ life (mistake number one, don’t compare experiences). My sister’s was different. My neighbour’s was different. I salute your success, brave one. Does this mean I have failed myself?

To you all, who reinforce life through feeding tiny humans…

My 2 full years of breastfeeding a toddler are shocking you. Yet I remind myself that your formula bottle used to scare me too. My occasional and unintended flashing off sore nipples gets judged when I’m in public. Who am I kidding, the entire breastfeeding business is often frowned upon by some ‘open minded’ individuals. So does your milk bottle for your 3 days old baby which seems torture to the judging eye of others, yet no one knows that this January may be your 10 years cancer free anniversary (mistake number two: don’t judge a bottle). You salute my long-term success, yet despite your genuine and warm thoughts, do I sincerely think you have failed yourself?

To all of us and our daily woes and perks…

Your child is sleeping through the night. Mine not so much. Your child is not a fussy eater. Instead my kitchen walls are deeply and completely covered in three shades of purple puréed foods that not even the most expensive professional painter’s help doesn’t seem likely to cover it. Your child is such a fast learner, loves painting, decorating, singing, dancing, he/she is a true artist. Your child is going to the nursery you think is the best in the city & you’re not struggling or at least you’re not complaining much. Your child doesn’t bite, doesn’t push, doesn’t tantrum. Well, at least not as often as mine as mine loves a scene in the middle of the store when he feels there is the perfect audience to witness his dedicated performance (mistake number three: don’t judge a parent based on his/her child’s number of tantrums). Does this mean I have failed myself in front of you and your so well behaved tiny humans?

I do not think so. Yet I have to repeat myself: I’m truly and utterly happy for you. We all do motherhood. We all love it and we all sometimes hate the feeling of becoming powerless in front of some of its challenges it brings along with it. Natural births, c-sections, pain killers/ no painkillers, breastfeeding, bottle feeding, public or private education…We all do what we think it fits best with us and our family. Or at least, we try to compensate in one direction if we are missing something on the other.