Bad Mum

Magazine

1 December 2016

Huge welcome to...

Today I have a Guest Post from the tattooed Mama herself, Lindsay Lamb aka interpid_lamb all about my favourite thing - honesty. I love this post and yet again it is why I started Bad Mum!  

Over to you Lindsay! 

Perfectly imperfect

I handed my brand spanking new baby boy to my oldest friend in the world.
"Oh look at him" my bestie said "I am so jealous. Being a mum is wonderful and fulfilling and just perfect? Right?... Right?…"
Pff wrong!! My bestie is the one person I can completely tell the truth too. Actually I think, I am not so sure.
"..but it is though really right? Now he's here, it's got to be worth it - you wouldn't change anything would you?"
To be honest, at that stage of sleep deprivation and exhaustion, I would have cut my own eyes out to have changed all of it, if it meant I could just sleep. Giving birth for me was the easy bit. Having a new baby was the end of the world as I knew it. I knew that it was tough being a new parent with a tiny, defenceless, new baby. I was warned that it was going to be hard. But nobody told me that it would be this FUCKING hard! I mean really, really, really 'is it even worth it?, hard! I couldn't believe that all these new Mum's I met in those early days were just getting on with it. There were Facebook status' of "Finally sleeping through, hurrah" by mums with 4 week old babies, and Instagram pictures of fresh-faced, made up mums and their beautiful, sleeping babies in this season's designer, monochrome, handmade clobber, which also happens to be hand stitched by Insta-mums, whom themselves have 3 day old babies. What the actual fuck? Who are these fucking super mums? And why am I the only one struggling? I counted my blessings when my baby slept for 20 minutes or didn't cry for long enough for me to lie him on the bathroom floor whilst I had a pee. I took a shower about once a week (the only day I used my 20 minute blessing to do something other than sleep) As for Make-up? What's that? I left the house in the item of clothing, that had the least amount of sick stains on it, and socks out of the dirty laundry basket.  Having enough time to cook delicious meals to Instagram the shit out of?...Well... that was the stuff of dreams!
A few days ago, my bestie told me she was preggers (baby no.1) and she is ecstatic.
"This will change my life, right?"
I want to tell her the truth, I want her to be prepared for everything that I wasn't.
I want her to know that my physical wounds of child birth have now healed, but the emotional ones are raw and ingrained on my brain and my heart. Exposed always.
I want to tell her that she will never again watch the news or read the newspapers without being haunted by every car crash, street stabbing or house fire. "what if that were my child?" or that she will cry and cry for all those pictures of starving children, and at the same time just be so grateful that it's not hers.
I want to tell her beautifully made-up face, that no matter how clean, and tidy her clothes are, or no matter how long it takes her to get her curly hair styled with just the right amount of bounce that once she is a mother she will revert to the primal, fierce instincts of a mother bear. The sound of a perfectly timed "mummy!" will result in her heart dropping (as well as her lippy!) without any hesitation whatsoever.
I want to warn her that all the hours she has put into studying a PhD, and carving herself a career mean jack-shit the minute that baby pops out, and that every single day she is at work and away from her baby, she will not be able to think of anyone or anything else.
I want her to know that no matter how self-assured she is, that every future decision she makes, will constantly be second guessed by herself, and that every insecurity she has now about her body is irrelevant as she will never feel the same again. I want to tell her that stretch marks are badges of honour, and her entire appearance will be so far from important once that baby comes along. I want her to appreciate that all the things that make her baby hurt will also make her hurt, I know she will give everything up in a moment to save her child and will willingly give up her own dreams just to watch her sweet, tiny baby grow up and accomplish theirs.
It has taken 2 years but I have finally learnt that for every happy, family selfie moment on Instagram, there are hundred non-happy ones that didn't make the cut. For every toothless smile there are thousands of tears - and not just baby's. I am certain now that this is how it is for all mums even the perfect ones that totally have their shit together.

I am one of them Insta-mums now. In my Instagram pictures, everyone can see all the joy and exhilaration in having a perfect angel, but what really want is for her to see all my discarded Instagram pictures, the hundreds and hundreds, and hundreds of photos of my son trying and failing at so many things just so she knows that his imperfections are what make him so perfect! That's reality.




"This will change my life, right?" she said again.
"Yes my friend, but you will never ever regret it"
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