Blushing emoji alert! With my grubby hand on my too full heart I can say I’ve got no regrets for the gentle parenting choices I’ve made since becoming a mum.
Sharing a bed: best thing ever. That sweet milky breath at night. Those big twinkly eyes smiling as you open yours every morning.
Breastfeeding: I’ll never get over the fact my body is providing everything that little girl needs to be as clever and strong and healthy as she is. Actual woman power.
Babywearing: I’ll take any shortcuts in life. And the mighty sling provides many.
Baby-led everything: See my earlier fuck you to a health visitor who disagrees. U startin?
But hold up. Life isn’t thaaat easy. Of course I have some regrets. And yet those regrets are ENTIRELY related to moments where I’ve tried to adapt what was working for me to fit in with Western society norms. To what people who don’t know me very well suggested I “should” be doing.
Like covering up when breastfeeding: the extra layers are sweaty and faffy and increase your chances of flashing nip by a million times as you untangle them from your baby’s head while she screams impatiently.
Like sleeping in a different room to my baby after 6 months: the failed attempts left me beyond knackered as I stomped back and forth between rooms every hour in the cold and dark — and angry at my baby. A feeling I’d never experienced while sharing a cosy, calm, dreamy double bed.
Like giving a bottle: mainly so I could prepare to leave her with others for a night, so I could keep up with friends and enjoy my dwindling youf. Since lowering expectations and realising that this time with a sweet helpless baby really isn’t long at all, I’ve not really wanted to go out raving all night. Cuddles are the new lo-fi surf punk anyway.
Like using a pram in the first 6 months: I’d always planned to use a sling while she was tiny and needed to be close to me. When trying out the pram one day to pick up some food “cus that’s what all the other mums do”, we both left the place red faced, crying and feeling like total newbs again.
Like forcing her to eat mushy baby food from me: she’s getting more than enough chubby thigh from breastmilk and the odd finger food that she likes to slowly eat on her own. But proud mums of spoon-fed babies worry me — and then I get frustrated when she throws yet another spoonful of something slimy and overpriced onto my dog’s back.
Like thinking about sleep: it’s impossible not to try and at least have some idea of what’s going on at night. But those minutes looking for emerging patterns and counting sleep cycles could have been spent chilling with my partner, my baby, my dog, or myself. Life’s too short to give a fuck, my friends.
Do you have any regrets about choices you have made or ways you’ve rolled in baby town? Contact us or use #WokeMamas to chat on Instagram. Life would be boring if we had no regrets tho, right?
Like what you see? Follow us on the gram. Sick of boring baby blogs? Join our awesome AF collective & raise a kinder world. Subscribe rn to get new posts to your inbox by hitting “follow” below. We love you 4 reals.