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Life Lessons in Mummy Guilt

1
My mum is warm, kind and loving. She ticks all the nurturing mum boxes. At primary school, I remember a friend saying, ’I wish your mum was like mine, she is so mumsy’. It was a true compliment at the time. She did 110% of all the child-care (four girls), house-work and ferrying us around; we lived in the middle of nowhere.

My dad was (and still is) a farmer, immersed in the land and animals from dawn till dusk. My mum didn’t have an option or expectation of not doing it all. She came from a generation where self-care wasn’t even a thing; her

SelfishMother.com
2
role was care-taker and supporter of others. Questioning this would have felt wrong and evading important responsibilities.

Although my lovely mum is a super-woman, with vats of strength and batteries runner longer than most, certainly there were costs in trying to do it all. Understandably, she sometimes became resentful and burned out. And who was she beyond the demands of home and family life?

Before having children, I’d foolishly thought little about the divvying up of childcare and household chores.  Or how my mum’s role at home would

SelfishMother.com
3
impact me and my choices. The joyful excitement of ‘having a baby’ was all encompassing, with attention focused on acquiring the right baby paraphernalia and prettifying the nursery.

And with baby number 1, yes, it was a humungous change, but husband and I rolled along happily in the main. I took on the lion’s share of household stuff (felt like my role) and returned to work part-time, head bobbing comfortably(ish) above water.

Two years later, a juggernaut of change swiftly toppled this status quo. Babies 2 and 3 (twins) arrived, we moved to

SelfishMother.com
4
a new house (an hour away from mummy friends) and my husband started a business. And you guessed it, I tried to carry on the juggling as before.

Interestingly, although in my rational mind, I was all for woman’s rights and sharing household chores, emotionally I struggled with this. I felt that I should do it all – like my mum had done. I felt inappropriately guilty for thinking about spreading the load or taking time out.

As you can imagine, I became exhausted. My relationship with my husband became strained and I was a ball of resentful fury.

SelfishMother.com
5
I would passively hold it together for hours at a time, to then horribly vent my frustrations.

Ten years and a half years later, I am happy to report that there was no divorce or mental breakdown or catastrophe – although at times we skirted close to the edge. As sleep returned and we immersed our heads above the chaotic waters of the baby and toddler years, things were slowly changing.

I began to realise that I needed to give myself permission to self-care and put some boundaries in place. Alas, no fairy godmother was going to do it for me. No

SelfishMother.com
6
one was going to help me if I didn’t ask.

I realised that I could decide not to feel guilty -that was an old, outdated feeling that didn’t bear relation to my life today.

Thankfully, I am no longer a martyr, having to suck it up and do my duty. We now share out the jobs of family life.  In fact, the balance has shifted somewhat, as my husband is now the one at home whilst I’m at work full-time.

Lessons to my younger self:

There is no fairy godmother to rescue or fix the situation. You give yourself permission to do this.
Guilt is

SelfishMother.com
7
a wasted and destructive emotion that does no favours and brings no benefits.
You must ask for help – directly, calmly, kindly – not in a passive aggressive sulk or a furious rage.
You can say no. You can say yes. You have a voice – allow yourself to be heard.

Looking back, it now all seems so obvious, simple and easy. Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing? I’m sure many of you have this sussed already and I salute you for it! But for anyone who doesn’t, take heart, things can change. You will be happier for it.

SelfishMother.com

By

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- 16 Jan 19

My mum is warm, kind and loving. She ticks all the nurturing mum boxes. At primary school, I remember a friend saying, ’I wish your mum was like mine, she is so mumsy’. It was a true compliment at the time. She did 110% of all the child-care (four girls), house-work and ferrying us around; we lived in the middle of nowhere.

My dad was (and still is) a farmer, immersed in the land and animals from dawn till dusk. My mum didn’t have an option or expectation of not doing it all. She came from a generation where self-care wasn’t even a thing; her role was care-taker and supporter of others. Questioning this would have felt wrong and evading important responsibilities.

Although my lovely mum is a super-woman, with vats of strength and batteries runner longer than most, certainly there were costs in trying to do it all. Understandably, she sometimes became resentful and burned out. And who was she beyond the demands of home and family life?

Before having children, I’d foolishly thought little about the divvying up of childcare and household chores.  Or how my mum’s role at home would impact me and my choices. The joyful excitement of ‘having a baby’ was all encompassing, with attention focused on acquiring the right baby paraphernalia and prettifying the nursery.

And with baby number 1, yes, it was a humungous change, but husband and I rolled along happily in the main. I took on the lion’s share of household stuff (felt like my role) and returned to work part-time, head bobbing comfortably(ish) above water.

Two years later, a juggernaut of change swiftly toppled this status quo. Babies 2 and 3 (twins) arrived, we moved to a new house (an hour away from mummy friends) and my husband started a business. And you guessed it, I tried to carry on the juggling as before.

Interestingly, although in my rational mind, I was all for woman’s rights and sharing household chores, emotionally I struggled with this. I felt that I should do it all – like my mum had done. I felt inappropriately guilty for thinking about spreading the load or taking time out.

As you can imagine, I became exhausted. My relationship with my husband became strained and I was a ball of resentful fury. I would passively hold it together for hours at a time, to then horribly vent my frustrations.

Ten years and a half years later, I am happy to report that there was no divorce or mental breakdown or catastrophe – although at times we skirted close to the edge. As sleep returned and we immersed our heads above the chaotic waters of the baby and toddler years, things were slowly changing.

I began to realise that I needed to give myself permission to self-care and put some boundaries in place. Alas, no fairy godmother was going to do it for me. No one was going to help me if I didn’t ask.

I realised that I could decide not to feel guilty -that was an old, outdated feeling that didn’t bear relation to my life today.

Thankfully, I am no longer a martyr, having to suck it up and do my duty. We now share out the jobs of family life.  In fact, the balance has shifted somewhat, as my husband is now the one at home whilst I’m at work full-time.

Lessons to my younger self:

  • There is no fairy godmother to rescue or fix the situation. You give yourself permission to do this.
  • Guilt is a wasted and destructive emotion that does no favours and brings no benefits.
  • You must ask for help – directly, calmly, kindly – not in a passive aggressive sulk or a furious rage.
  • You can say no. You can say yes. You have a voice – allow yourself to be heard.

Looking back, it now all seems so obvious, simple and easy. Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing? I’m sure many of you have this sussed already and I salute you for it! But for anyone who doesn’t, take heart, things can change. You will be happier for it.

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I'm a Mum of three (one daughter and twin sons). I'm a therapist specialsing in eating disorders and body image; working for the Adult Eating Disorder Service at Addenbrookes Hospital, Cambridge and in private practice. I am passionate about supporting people to recover from eating disorders. I like to try my hand at ninja warrior training and parkour, when I have time!

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