You’re a mother. You’ve got the most important job in the world and you’re doing it all wrong.
You’re pregnant and you had a glass of wine. You couldn’t quite put the smoking habit behind you and you took a few puffs. You couldn’t resist the soft cheese or the runny egg. You put your baby at risk.
Don’t you know the responsibility on your shoulders? There is a small person relying on you. So many people wish they could be in your situation, you don’t deserve to be a mum.
You didn’t go to antenatal classes, you weren’t prepared for the birth. You had no birth plan and ended up with medical intervention, drugs being pumped into your baby at the most traumatic time of their life. Don’t you understand what you’ve done? Don’t you care?
You breastfeed your newborn. How will your partner ever bond with the baby if you do all the feeding? You feed in public, don’t you realise the offence you cause?
You feed your baby formula, don’t you think about the harm you are doing? The nutrients, the gut bacteria, the immune system. Everything about your baby is going to suffer for your convenience. We won’t speak of the emotional damage caused by failing to form the maternal bond that breastfeeding creates.
You feed your baby solids before the age of six months? Your child will grow up with food phobias.
You buy processed baby food? Your child will always be a fussy eater. Don’t be surprised if they never eat broccoli. By the age of seven they will probably survive on a diet of white bread and salt.
You breastfeed your toddler? They’re destined to be bullied, a clingy child who won’t know how to socialise with other children. And you dare to carry out this act in public without covering up? This is indecent exposure, a borderline sex offence.
And just look at you. You haven’t washed your hair in days, where is your makeup? Your children are scruffy, your clothes are old, you all look a mess. You are a family of social outcasts.
And you, the pristine, beautiful mum who always looks immaculate. Your children are dressed in the trendiest clothing. They’re spoilt, they have a sense of entitlement and they’ll grow up to be obnoxious and think that society owes them something.
They spent hours playing with the latest gadgets this morning while you got dressed up to the nines. Can’t you see what you’re doing to them? They need your time, not your money.
But wait, who am I to judge?
That pregnant mum who had a drink, she lost her dad last night.
The one who wasn’t prepared for the birth? She worked until the day she went into labour just to make ends meet.
The breastfeeder spent weeks alone in her room in agony. Bleeding, crying and pleading with the baby to latch properly.
The formula feeder couldn’t afford a career break. Her husband was made redundant the night the baby was born.
The mum who always buys baby food in jars never learnt to cook. There was nobody to teach her in the drugs den she grew up in.
The scruffy mum that nobody talks to? Her husband was in an accident and she’s just about holding it together.
The beautiful mum with her perfect hair and immaculate children? She was bullied in school for the way she looked and she’s never going to see her children go through the same ordeal.
I judge them all. They’re different, they don’t do things the same way as me. And everything I do is the best thing for my children. I want to do the best for them in every possible way.
I want the best for them, just like the breastfeeder, the formula feeder, the scruffy one, the beautiful one, the gadget mum, the baby food purchaser and the one who likes a drink.
We’re all doing the best we can by our children. Bringing them up the way we see fit. Trying to keep their hopes and dreams alive and see them grow and blossom into the amazing people they deserve to be.
Perhaps we’re not so different after all.
Don’t judge me, I’m just a mum like you.