An Open Letter to Moms Everywhere

To every mom who has ever encountered the eye roll of a judgy stranger: I owe you an apology.

I’m not proud to admit it, but I used to be one of those people. I was annoyed at the mom who let her kids run rampant in the grocery store. Frustrated by the mom who didn’t shush her screaming baby in the dressing room at Target. Aggravated by the mom who didn’t corral her toddlers when they scattered in every unpredictable direction as I tried to jog by them at the park.

I REALLY didn’t get it.

I didn’t know that there are literally five million battles you fight with your little ones every.single.day. And that letting them run through the supermarket isn’t even close to the most important one. I didn’t realize that sometimes, the choice might be between letting them run around happily, or listening to them scream at the top of their lungs by forcing them to sit in the cart. Or worse, hurting themselves during a tantrum (my son has taken to throwing himself backwards any time he doesn’t get his way… imagine how many times he’s almost hit his head were it not for my cat-like reflexes). I didn’t know that sometimes, when you’ve got a new baby and you’re stuck at home all day, the walls start closing in. And a trip to Target can be the only thing that preserves your sanity when that baby just won’t stop crying. And I definitely didn’t know just how difficult it can be to control one determined toddler – let alone multiples.

But then I had a baby of my own. And I got it. Like really, really got it.

Being on the other side of things was enlightening, to say the least. Suddenly, I was the one desperately seeking an empathetic face as Ben threw record-setting tantrums in line at the DMV. And suddenly, I was the mom letting my toddler run like a drunk monkey through the clothing racks at Target because my arm was at risk of breaking in half from carrying his 30-pound baby body (who knew squirmy toddlers don’t always want to sit nicely in a cart while you shop??). I had never realized just how heavy those little bodies can become – especially if you have things in your hand or a cart to push. And I definitely never thought about how sometimes, asking for forgiveness from a stranger when your toddler runs smack into her knees is a whole lot easier than asking your toddler not to commit the crime in the first place.

Every errand I ran with Ben just made me feel more awful for all the judgements I’d passed on other moms prior to becoming one. And the thing that made me feel even worse? How kindly other moms treated me.

Becoming a mom has taught me a lot of things. But one of the biggest lesson is that a little compassion goes a long way.

When you’re young, relationships with other women outside your inner circle are complex. For so many of us, we’ve grown up looking at other females through a lens of caution or competition. But when you become a mom, something changes; other women become your safe place.

When Ben was just a few months old, Brenda and I were lucky enough to get tickets to the Philadelphia Flower Show. While I was excited to get out of the house, to say I was a bit anxious about this particular event is a bit of an understatement. The location was over an hour drive from my house. Two hours of travel time is a challenge when you’re breastfeeding on demand-especially when your baby demands VERY often – every hour, to be specific. And of course, parking is always an issue with a little one. And on this particular day, the temperature was cold… very, very cold. Which meant parking close was important. And dressing him appropriately was a concern. Plus, there was loading up the car with all the right gear – stroller, diapers, wipes, toys to keep him occupied, a baby carrier… going anywhere with a little one can literally feel like packing for vacation.

Which is why, when we finally made it to the event safe and sound, I couldn’t help but give myself a pat on the back. I – and my little guy – – had made it one piece. But the glory was short-lived. Within minutes of arriving, Ben started screaming for breastmilk. And while I was ecstatic to find a Mamava lactation pod, I was not so ecstatic to find that there was a very long line of women waiting to use it. And a long walk around the convention center revealed no discreet locations to breastfeed. (And while I commend other women who are working hard to normalize breastfeeding by doing it in public, I just wasn’t quite there yet in my own journey).

So, with a hungry, screaming baby and no other options, I did what I’ve had to do many times since. I crammed myself, my baby and my stroller all into a skinny little bathroom stall, parked myself on the toilet, and did what I had to do.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was fine. Until a woman waiting in line said to her friend (deliberately loudly enough for me to hear), “What is she doing in there all this time? Doesn’t she know people are waiting?”

I wanted to cry. No, of course I didn’t want to be sitting on a toilet with a stroller handle stabbing me in my shoulder, trying to determine if there was any way I could relieve my exploding bladder while holding my baby and more importantly, how exactly I would get out of the stall once we were done. But my baby needed feeding and I was out of options. Not only that, there were a million bathrooms in that place and just ONE lactation pod.

That’s when another woman – a mom with two elementary school-aged children – responded, “She’s nursing her baby. When the baby needs to eat, you do what you have to do.” Then she called out to me, “Do you need anything in there?”

Boom.

To this saint of a woman, the gesture might have felt small. But to me, it was enormous. Motherhood is freaking hard. And while it was my choice to take this journey, I deeply appreciate those who show a little compassion as I navigate its hurdles.

I appreciate the mom at the bagel shop who swooped in and grabbed the high chair from my hands when I was trying to balance carrying Ben, our food and the chair on the walk to our table. I appreciate the mom at the tradeshow I attended at six weeks postpartum (the first time I was away from Ben for an extended period of time), who shared a few tips when I was struggling to pump for the first time outside of my home. And the mom who showed me the “mommy and me” swing at the playground when she noticed me scouting out the already-taken regular swings.

When Ben was six months old, we took him to Fort Lauderdale. To say we were anxious about it is a complete understatement. First, there was the stress of figuring out what time we should fly so that he would sleep (rookie assumption, btw) during the flight and not during the car ride. Then there was the stress of packing – we wanted to make sure we left the right things out for the plane ride and then pack everything we would need while we were there.

And let’s not forget the question of breastfeeding. My mom friends had advised me to nurse him during takeoff and landing since the swallowing would prevent his ears from popping. But how would I do that comfortably with a stranger next to us? And what should I wear to enable me to discreetly feed him? And how do I time his other breastfeeds so he will want to latch when the time comes? And what do I do with the milk I had pumped as a last resort. How many ounces do I have to stick with in order to get them through security? And is a cooler OK to bring?

So much to think about. And so many strategies to consider to minimize the chances that Ben would erupt in screams on the plane.

Thankfully, he was as good as he could be. But that didn’t seem to matter to the woman who sat next to us on the flight out. The one who told her husband she’d take the seat next to us as if she was sawing off a limb on his behalf. The one who shot her husband a look every time Ben cooed or whimpered.

I’d like to say I was unaffected, but I was an over-exhausted, over-extended new mom. You better believe I was fragile. But then a woman in the seat in front of me turned and started cooing at Ben and showing him various things in her purse and I thought to myself THIS. This is what we need more of: Compassion and support and acknowledgement. I am doing my best to navigate what often feels like an impossible journey. I’m not hoping my baby makes a flight miserable for others. In fact, of all the people who cringed when they saw a baby on board, I was undoubtedly the most anxious. Why is this so difficult for some people?

Last week was one of those weeks.

Nick was away on a work trip, which meant I was single momming. Ben had been sick, teething and cranky for days. I had caught whatever bug he was battling, and was hobbling around thanks to an injury I sustained after a particularly grueling marathon training run. Work had been particularly stressful all week and I was gearing up for a big presentation. So by Friday, the walls were closing in on me and I had to get out. So I packed Ben up and we headed over to a little diner near my house to grab breakfast.

While we were there, Ben was fussy. His nose was running, he was shrieking his way through his oatmeal, throwing his water bottle on the floor and banging his spoon on the table.

I was officially defeated.

A mom saw me struggling and came right to my table. Without a word, she held the highchair while I pulled Ben out of it. We got to talking and I mentioned that we’d both been sick for quite a while but that we were going stir crazy and just had to get out. She proceeded to give me some tips about home remedies and things to avoid (she had raised three children of her own). Then she told me about a great park a few miles up the road that was perfect for really little ones. I thanked her and headed out, feeling hopeful. Before I was out the door, though, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the woman. She said to me, “You’re doing great, mama. Just make sure you’re taking care of YOU, too.”

Cue the waterworks, right?

I made it to my car first but you better believe I cried my exhausted and sick little heart out. So often in this journey, we forget about ourselves. We become so wrapped up in making sure our little ones are happy and healthy that we forget about our needs. We run on autopilot, robots whose sole mission is to keep tiny humans alive and thriving. But as they say, a happy mom is a good mom, and a happy mom needs to be a human sometimes, too. This woman’s words touched me. They reframed my entire perspective on parenting in a way. And they definitely changed my entire perspective on how I should be responding to others I encounter throughout my motherhood journey.

I decided to start speaking up when judgmental strangers act cruelly to me. Because I don’t have to take their jabs. I don’t have to pretend I don’t hear the snide comments or see the snarky faces.

And I decided I will be one of those women who goes out of my way to help a new or a struggling mom. And I decided to stop being so judgmental myself. Not just about moms with unruly children in the grocery store. But about people in general. I don’t know their struggles. But I do know how to stop piling on.

And finally, I decided to stop judging myself so harshly, too. I really am doing the best I can. And as long as my best is good enough for my son, it’s most definitely enough.

So I want to say that I’m sorry, moms, for the judgements I have passed. I was ignorant and I was cruel to have added stress to an already stressful journey. I promise that I will never judge you again. I will be a champion for you, not a hurdle. That is a promise you can hold me to.

And I also want to say thank you. Thank you for your warmth and your compassion and your support. You couldn’t possibly know how you’ve shaped my journey but you have helped me survive a very difficult time in my life, and given me strength and compassion. And I promise to always pay it forward.