To all the mothers who have gone before me

To all the mothers who have gone before me

I’m sorry.

I had no idea.

I mean, I “knew” you weren’t getting any sleep, I “knew” you were doing a difficult job, I “knew” you were living in a culture which undervalues and underappreciates the role of the mother.

I “knew” you were being judged primarily on how much baby weight you’d managed to lose, whether you were being holistic, natural, and selfless. I “knew” you were sacrificing most of your own needs, including the basics, like showering.

But I didn’t really know.

Until I became a mother, I didn’t really know how much the lack of sleep can affect your emotional and mental wellbeing, make you feel under-confident and a little crazy, and that the label of a “crazy woman” is a historically dangerous thing to be, and thus deepens the lack of confidence.

I now also know that somehow you get through it because you have access to the most incredible, unspeakable and terrifying love.

Until I became a mother, I did not really know that it’s not just the lack of time that stops you from doing things for yourself, but that the nonstop awareness of your baby makes it difficult to even know what things you want to do for yourself. Yes, yoga would make you feel better. But to roll out the mat and relax into a practice when you know any moment that baby might wake? That is less appealing.

I now also know that when you do carve time to take care of yourself, your appreciation for the basic things - a hot bath, time with friends, a massage, some yoga, a glass of wine, a nap - can multiply.

Until I became a mother, I did not really know how toxic the wellbeing world could be. That the illusion of choice would be presented to me as empowering, when really it crippled me with a sense of failure and low self-esteem because really, what was the right “choice”, and what about all the times when it felt like I had no choice, and was just winging it, moment to moment?

I now also know that when people said “choice” they really meant “control” and if yoga has taught me anything it is that surrender, rather than control, brings greater peace and contentment than trying to choose the “right” way to birth, the “right” way to feed, the “right” time to exercise, the “right” time to take time out, away from your baby.

I now also know that babies don’t mind what you do. So long as you give them your presence, even when that presence is accompanied by tears of grief, frustration or pure exhaustion.

Until I became a mother, I did not really know that the true isolation came not from being at home alone with a baby, but the barrage of messages that what mattered after giving birth was how quickly one can “return to normal”. How the nonstop pressure on women to be slim not only continues after childbirth but intensifies, a rather cruel joke when women have just gone through one of the biggest transitions in their lives (second only perhaps to the transition of death) and need nurturing, love, support and laughter, not validation for weight loss. Becoming a mother reminded me that women are often the worse critics of each other, so much of this messaging we have been forced to swallow. I was exposed to my own inner critic, preying on my tiredness and vulnerability.

I now also know that the power of yoga is the ability to detach from this external bullshit and contemplate the amazement of your body and that this is actually, sadly, perhaps easier in isolation than surrounded by women intent on weight loss, other women trapped in the toxic obsession with the female body. How much we need to let this go, we can truly become a community.

Until I became a mother, I did not really know it wasn’t the surrender to motherhood that was hard, but the subsequent integration of “normal” life. To have to start to consider returning to work when you are only at the beginning of the beginning of becoming a mother. How tiring, how distracting, how unwelcome this can be when undertaken too soon, and yet how important it is to accept the imperfection of our lives and our culture and to make the best choice we can in this moment.

Only now do I know that the extraordinary transition of motherhood is hidden in plain sight. Another ritual of female experience, like menstruation and menopause, shrouded in secrecy, wordless and invisible, so that the woman pushing a pram, the woman having coffee with friends and babies, the woman feeding that baby, is unrecognised, apart from by those who have gone before her.

To all those who have gone before me - especially my friends, whom I have a different relationship with than my students - I am sorry. I did not see how amazing you were. I did not see the extraordinary in the ordinary, the mind-blowingly amazing and the mind-numbingly prosaic. I did not see the magic disguised in the mundane. I did not offer you the time, care, support or acknowledgement I now see you deserved.

To all the mothers who have gone before me - forgive the cruelty, insensitivity, lack of compassion you may have received. Stay strong in your awareness of the transition you have taken and the dedication you are showing. Accept how you feel, however bad it may be, and then seek to change it, if necessary, and get support, ask for help. it shows great strength to ask for help.

With love

Mel