Say it with us, “I’m going easy on myself today”

Parenting is no walk in the park, and sometimes it feels like the cards are stacked against us: work, dealing with tantrums (be it your toddler or tween), laundry, inflation on just about everything. That’s why it is more important than ever to offer some positive reinforcement… to yourself! We talked to the experts and came up with 15 positive affirmations to write down, display, or pull out on the days or in the moments when you need a lift.

Why positive affirmations can make you a better parent

We asked renowned parenting expert Reena B. Patel why positive affirmations matter. Patel, who is also a licensed educational psychologist, board-certified behavior analyst, and the author of Winnie & Her Worries, reminds us that positive affirmations are rooted in positive psychology. “Positive, simple statements help shift your focus away from perceived failures and direct your focus toward your strengths,” says Patel. “We believe and act upon what we think, thus leading to self-fulfilling prophecies if we focus only on what we are not good at. There is power in positive thinking. Positive emotions are linked with better health, longer life, and greater well-being.”

Patel also suggests that, whenever possible, parents try to state their affirmation while looking at themselves in the mirror, and by saying the statement multiple times a day (at least three is ideal). Use positive “I’ statements and place a visual of the words in an area that you can see daily as a reminder, she adds.

1. I am a good parent. It’s easy to criticize ourselves and focus on how we think we’re failing as a mom or dad. But parenting is tough, and we’re all doing the best we can. Acknowledge that fact, and tell yourself out loud, every day, that you’re a good parent.

2. Loving myself is the greatest gift I can give to my child. Kids are sponges and they learn from us. So if your kiddos know you appreciate yourself, they will learn to love themselves. That’s one of the greatest gifts we can give our kids.

3. I’m not perfect. We all know that nobody is perfect. But we place a big expectation on ourselves as parents to be pretty close to it. Repeating that mantra is a great reminder that it’s okay to be human, not to be perfect.

4. I can only control myself. It’s so hard, but one of the best ways to help kids grow emotionally is to exhibit mature behavior. Debbie Pincus, MS LMHC, says, “When we react emotionally to our kids and lose control, we’re allowing our kids to determine how we behave rather than the other way around.” Next time your kid throws a massive fit, try to stay calm and see what happens.

5. I am willing to learn and grow. Patel reminds us that it is critical to embrace change and growth, even when things seem tough. After all, it’s what we’d tell our kids, right?
6. Today is a new day. It’s easy to focus on how yesterday was a bad day. Sanah Rizvi, the founder of The Psych Way, suggests shifting the self-talk to focus on how every day is a chance to make progress toward what you want and the person you want to be.

7. I’m doing the best I can do. At the end of the day, that’s all we can do. Repeating that mantra every day will help you accept it as truth.

8. I make good decisions for my kids. This positive affirmation is a tough one to remember, especially when little ones are very vocal about making their displeasure with our decisions known. Parent Trust points out that moms and dads know they’re making the right choices for their kids. Embrace it and repeat the statement to yourself as a reminder.

9. I’m going easy on myself today. Permit yourself to take it easy. Say it out loud and grow comfortable with the idea.

10. It’s okay to ask for help, and what’s more, I deserve it. It’s time to take control of your needs and be OKAY with asking for help. You’ll be surprised to find out how many people are willing to step up if you just ask them.

11. Parenting is exhausting. Every parent knows this statement to be true. Writer Lauren Tamm suggests repeating this mantra as a reminder that taking care of kids is hard work. No wonder we’re so tired at the end of the day!

12. I am loved. Motherhood can be a thankless job, and little ones aren’t known for their compliments. Parent coach and family therapist Nicole Schwarz reminds moms that even though their kids may not say it, they really do feel that way. You just may need to put words to it.

13. I am what my kiddo needs. At the end of the day, there’s nothing else that’s as true as that statement.

14. It won’t always be like this. The one thing we know for sure is that hardships always pass. From colicky babies to navigating social media with tweens, one day, you’ll find yourself on the other side.

15. I do not need to compare. ” I know my kids the best, and comparisons do not serve me. If I notice myself comparing, I will quickly let it go,” Patel says. And that’s a lead worth following.

—with additional reporting by Leah Singer

I am an introvert. Basically, I like quiet. I like to be alone. I like peace. And I’m a mom.

As you can imagine, being an introvert and being a mom don’t always mix. Introverts breathe in solace and breathe out society. Being around people, even little people, expends our energy. That doesn’t mean we hate it; it’s just tiring. ​Being alone restores us.

But finding sufficient alone time isn’t the only hard thing about being an introverted mother. I have a whole list: I hate playdates. Having them isn’t the issue. It’s setting them up: coordinating, scheduling, remembering, driving… Even when someone invites my kids to their house, it stresses me out. Ridiculous, I know. Especially because most of my children’s friends are my friends. And I love my friends. But here we are.

Doing cool stuff with my kids stresses me out. I mean, I can’t even buy groceries without worrying my children will be kidnapped (which unfortunately isn’t an illogical fear anymore). So why would I subject myself to a zoo or museum? We have a small list of comfort zones: home, the farm, grandma’s, the mountain, the ranch, and sometimes Hobby Lobby.

The idea of my child, let alone more than one, being in sports/dance/music lessons that require me to consistently drive them somewhere, remember things, and interact with other adults gives me major anxiety.

I don’t like to do my girls’ hair. Yes, I have four daughters and I don’t like doing their hair. Well, I like doing the baby’s hair. But everyone else cries or complains or tries to run away, and it all just becomes a fight. And I’m not really good at doing hair anyway so it never quite turns out how we imagine. Grandpa Todd started calling three-year-old Adeline “Tarzan” because she has long wild hair and is usually half-naked. It’s fine. Might as well be wild and half-naked while you can.

And I especially hate bedtime. The whole to-do list of bedtime. PJs. Teeth. Homework. The “you said we could…” or “we forgot to…”s. Ugh. The begging for snuggles and stories and heart-to-hearts while I’m exhausted and so done. All made worse by the anticipation of that quiet, peaceful, alone time I’ve been craving is enough to make me crazy.

I used to feel immense guilt for hating playdates and hair and bedtime. Over time, I started to deeply believe that I wasn’t a good mother. Everyone else seemed to do these things easily, so I thought that I should, too. I should put my kids in every available sport/class. I should have a play date for each child several times a week. I should learn how to do fancy hairdos. I should read to my kids before bed. I should snuggle with them. I should take them on dates. I should do more. I should be more.

The should list grew, and so did the stress and anxiety. I became the awful mother I believed I was. Then one night, my husband and I were able to get away and go to a movie without the kids: Avengers: Endgame. It was late, and I would have preferred sleeping, but I fought to keep my eyes open (because how often do you go to a movie without kids?), and I’m so glad I did.

Thor, or rather, the heavy, depressed, broken, and aimless version of Thor, goes back in time and runs into his mother. She says something at that moment that hit me so hard it felt like a physical blow. “Everyone fails at who they are supposed to be.” EVERYONE FAILS AT WHO THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE. EVERYONE. FAILS. AT. WHO. THEY. ARE. SUPPOSED. TO. BE.

I was trying to be who I thought I was supposed to be. I thought I was supposed to have playdates like Ashley. I thought I was supposed to do amazing hairdos like Kristy. I thought I was supposed to put my kids in every sport available like Lisa. I thought I was supposed to gently love my children to sleep every night like Marissa. I thought I was supposed to do cool stuff with my kids like Kara. I thought I was supposed to be something I’m not. No wonder I felt like I was failing.

So now, I’m being brave and working on playdates, but we don’t have them often, and that’s okay. I’ve learned a few hairstyles, but we keep it pretty and simple. I’m teaching my older girls to brush their own hair so I don’t have to. And that’s okay. We’ve signed our kids up for a few classes so they can learn what they like, but we also recognize all the amazing unique things they already do and get to experience. And it’s all okay. And bedtime. I don’t read bedtime stories; we read earlier. My older girls and I use a mommy & me journal to write down all those heart-to-hearts, and we love sneaking them under each other’s pillows. Each night we pray and kiss goodnight and that’s it. And that’s okay.

We do things differently than the Ashley’s and Kristy’s and Kara’s and that’s okay. My kids are happy. They are fulfilled and loved and thriving. And now so am I. I’m not failing because I’m learning to embrace myself, to be myself. I am an introvert—and a great mom.

Originally published Oct 2021.

Amy is a creator and believes everyone else is too. She strives to be artistic in all areas of life but writing is her passion and her family is her masterpiece. She uses her blog to address the joys and struggles of motherhood and is currently writing her first novel.

Dear Mom Who Is Totally Screwing Up,

Today my six-year-old daughter screamed the whole way home because I would not buy her a pottery wheel. Today I lost my patience. I will lose my patience again tomorrow.

I sometimes clean up her messes, because I can’t deal with the potential meltdown or maintain the calm presence required to walk her through how to clean it on her own.

I let her watch kids’ shows with obnoxious characters who whine a lot and lack depth.

I tune her out after hours of nonstop talking. Lord knows what I have given her permission to do when answering with a vague, “Yeah, sure.”

Yesterday she informed me that she hates quesadillas, one of the five or so foods she has always willingly consumed. Eat chicken nuggets then. Whatever.

I catch myself whining at her in the same voice that enrages me when it comes from her mouth. I am failing by example.

I’ve read the articles; I know the current “rules” of being a great mother. I think most of those carefully curated “shoulds” were written by liars and people who have never been around children. At best, they are hopeful ideals.

I gave in to the tantrum because my brain was so loud, and it was the only way to filter out some of the noise.

I am not teaching her enough about empathy and equity and racism and compassion and feminism and and and…

I said it was time to go! Get your shoes on right now!

Kids need rules and structure and patience. Those things do not play well together. Probably because their mothers failed them.

I played on my phone. I played on my phone because I needed to escape, and if you just leave your kid at the park, people call CPS.

In a minute, I’m busy right now.

I’m busy not volunteering at school. Not reading enough books to her. Not not not.

Inside my head, there is a version of me sitting with my head between my knees and my hands over my ears. Inside my head, there’s a version of my kids tapping me on the shoulder, repeating, “Mommy, watch this. Mom. Mommy. Mom.” Because of course.

But I do know this. At the end of the day, she asks to cuddle. She shares her dinnertime candy with me because she “likes to do nice things for people.” She talks about the fun things I actually mustered up the energy to do, not as a way of saying how much better I could be, but as a way of saying how much “enough” I am. She sometimes mimics my worst but also mimics my best.

So maybe there is hope. Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe there is always tomorrow.

Dear Mom Who Is Totally Screwing Up, I wish this could be one of those uplifting messages about how you’re really not. But maybe you are. How the hell would I know? All I have to offer you is solidarity and a glass of wine.

Maybe maybe will have to be enough.

Originally published Sept. 2016.

RELATED LINKS
An Open Letter to the “Lazy” Mother in the Grocery Store
Why You Should Fight the Urge to Make a Happy Kid Happier
I Am a Pandemic Mother

Rhiannon Giles is an overwhelmed mother who only occasionally considers giving her children to the circus. She has a sarcasm problem and writes regularly at rhiyaya.com. To keep up with new posts and see some of her favorites, join her on Facebook and Twitter.

Go Ask Your Mom

Photo: Lindsey Althaus

If you’re a mom you know there’s a phrase that you cringe when you hear your husband say it: “Ask your mother.” It’s one that I hear and I think, “Nope! Why are you setting me up for this?” A lot of times I feel annoyed that I have to answer a basic question and Jeremy gets out of it.

But then I’m reminded of our NICU days. It’s this moment I always go back to. I can remember the site, the smell of a sterile hospital room, I can remember the feeling in my chest, the emotions all of it. It’s when Jeremy held Whit for the first time. Whit was on life-support we were hopeful but didn’t know what the next day could bring. We had had a long day. We weren’t approved for the Ronald McDonald house so we were driving almost an hour to and from the NICU every day.

I was the human milkmaid who wasn’t handling the NICU life the way I felt I should. As if that’s a thing. As if they hand you a book upon entering called: How to handle the NICU and other fun facts to get you through this sucky time. I was constantly crying only able to hold my son once a shift because he becomes too unstable. None of this situation was ok. NONE of it.

I remember going to my parents to eat and my phone broke. I lost every NICU picture. Every contact. Everything. I had four days of exhaustion, trauma, and this feeling of guilt that I couldn’t shake and I lost everything. Whitman could easily die and I’d be left with 22 stitches in my lady bits and no video of Jeremy giving Whit his first bath, or a picture of me holding Whit for the first time.

During my meltdown, we decided to go back to the NICU one last time before heading home for the night. We walked into the room and the NICU nurse was in we introduced ourselves and she asked if one of us wanted to hold Whitman. I said let Jeremy. And Jeremy didn’t dare argue that logic. I remember the nurse and I moving the tubes and things around and Jeremy sitting in the chair. I remember how delicately he was placed in Jeremy’s arms and I remember this almost calm that had on his face. A weird relief. That maybe, just maybe, we’d make it through with minimum PTSD. We had been through so much in four days. Our lives weren’t anything that we had planned. I was working through a lot. Like how it’s the week of Thanksgiving and I wasn’t going to get to gorge like the big pregnant woman I dreamt of because Whit was here. I was working through the feeling of failure, I’m his mom and I couldn’t even take care of him the right away. I shouldn’t be this guy’s mom. I’m not qualified. He deserves so much better than me.

But at that moment though, when Jeremy was holding Whit the nurse said: “Mr. Althaus he can hear you talk to him.” Jeremy isn’t a man of words so I was expecting his usual: Hi and that was it. But in this deep confident voice, he said: “Hey I’m your dad. It’s not supposed to be like this. But we’re here. I love you. I don’t have any answers but your mom does. Ask her. Always ask her.”

I stood there sobbing which was my new persona those days. The nurse stood there sobbing too. Even though I felt like I failed Jeremy didn’t think so. Even though I was convinced that Whit would be better off with someone else Jeremy didn’t think so. NICU life is a lonely life. No one gets it until you’re there. There are so many roller coasters of emotions. Your sweet babe takes two steps forward three steps back. On days when I feel like I’m failing, I think of the day that Jeremy said ask your mom for the first time. Though today those words can drive me crazy I never take it for granted because there was a time when we weren’t sure that Whitman would be here. The NICU saved our baby and helped make him the thriving 6-year-old he is today. And for that I’m grateful.

 

Lindsey is a mom, wife, and blogger at The Althaus Life. She lives in Ohio with her husband and 2 children. Lindsey is grateful all things and to be able to chronicle her beautifully broken laugh til you cry cry until you laugh life.

At Xyza: News for Kids, we’re continuing our conversation about racism by asking our young readers the question: What is the definition of racism?

Currently, the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines racism as “a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race,” but that’s going to change very soon. Why?

Recent graduate Kennedy Mitchum was tired of people correcting her when she defined racism to include a broader definition of the word. To her, the definition of the word was really outdated. To her, racism is not just people’s prejudice against others but also prejudice combined with social or systemic power. She emailed the editors of the Merriam-Webster dictionary and asked them to revise and expand the definition of racism.

To Mitchum’s surprise, Merriam-Webster editor Alex Chambers emailed her the next day, launching a series of emails to discuss possible changes to the definition.

Those working on revising the definition of racism will be consulting with experts in Black studies to come up with the new definition. The new definition of the word will be published as soon as August.

Activities for Kids:

1. What’s the definition of a word that you think needs updating in the dictionary? Share with us! Email responses to editor@xyzanews.com.

2. Speaking of words … Xyza’s throwing out fun trivia about words this week at newsicle.co. First up? The rhyming lyrics of Hamilton!

Want more news trivia? Follow www.newsicle.co for fascinating news trivia updated every weekday for the entire family to enjoy!

This post originally appeared on Xyza: News for Kids.
Joann Suen & Sapna Satagopan
Tinybeans Voices Contributor

We're two perfectly imperfect moms who have five very different kids between the two of us. We believe that topics in news are a fantastic way to spark conversations in families. That's why we started the Dinner Table Conversation series here at Xyza: News for Kids. Won't you join us in the conversation? 

Stargate Apparel has issued a recall on Bunz Kidz-branded sleepwear sets, specifically sold in a robe, top and pants combination. The notice was issued by the U.S. Consumer Products Safety Commission on May 20, 2020 for failing to meet the federal flammability standard for children’s sleepwear, in which burn issues can be a risk if sleepwear is not either snug-fitting or flame resistant.

The recalled sets include a 100 percent microfleece robe and matching white pants with a pink star print and a 100 percent polyester pink top with “Dream in Glitter” printed in gold. The sets were sold in sizes two through 12 and “Bunz Kids” is printed on a blue sewn-in label.

The affected style numbers can be found on the blue label and include L23846, L43846 or L73846. Consumers can also check another sewn-in label to reference the GPU numbers which include 2017-246, 2017-446 or GPU 2017-746.

The recalled PJ sets were sold at Boscovs, Century 21, JC Penney, Macy’s, Marshalls and TJ Maxx, other stores nationwide and online at Amazon.com and Walmart.com from August 2017 through December 2019 for between $24 and $48.

If you think you own one of the recalled products, immediately remove from within your children’s reach and contact Stargate Apparel for a full refund. Consumers can call toll-free at 866-351-0193 from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. ET Monday through Friday, email at recall@stargateap.com with “Product Recall” as the email subject or online at www.stargateapparel.com and click the Contact link on the upper right hand corner of the homepage for more information.

––Karly Wood

Photo: Courtesy of the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission

 

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I know why you are exhausted. It’s because you are giving. It’s because you are cleaning. It’s because you are watching. It’s because you are working. You pour your coffee every morning, knowing you’ll probably never get to finish it without microwaving it five times.

Someone needs you, wants you or is talking to you. Always. You are inevitably pulled in several different directions as the sun slowly wakes from her slumber. Sometimes you get up early—in the darkness—just to take a hot shower or drink your coffee in peace. Sometimes you stay up way too late just so you can take a quiet breath.

I know why you are exhausted. It’s because you are worrying. It’s because you are questioning. It’s because you are confused. It’s because you are learning.

You struggle to get everyone to where they need to be on time. You often rush around like a maniac and then wonder what it’s all for.

You scold others for not doing as they were told. You sometimes cry in utter frustration because no one seems to be listening. You feel like you explain the same thing over and over—a thousand times over.

You keep trying to do what you think is the best thing. You step up to the plate, again and again, to give it another shot.

I know why you are exhausted. It’s because you are negotiating. It’s because you are planning. It’s because you are arguing. It’s because you are yelling.

You wake up every day telling yourself you’ll be calm. You tell yourself won’t lose your sh*t or yell and scream. You tell yourself you’ll meditate, do yoga or—find your “zen.” But you don’t. You get busy. You have to go somewhere, be somewhere, take someone somewhere. You get distracted. You get frustrated. You yell.

You sometimes compare yourself to other moms, thinking you’ve lost the race. You think you’ve lost the race of who’s the calmest, the most organized or the most energetic. But all the other moms are running their own race in their own minds. They have their own battles, worries and torrential fears of failure. The other moms are exhausted, too, even the ones who look flawless. Appearances can be utterly deceiving.

I know why you are exhausted. It’s because you are self-defeating. It’s because you’re having a bad week, day, hour or moment.

You are a mom. You are everything to everyone. You get tired. You get scared. You get frustrated. Being a mom is not for the faint-hearted.

Being exhausted does not mean you are failing at motherhood. It just means you need to rest. And it’s okay to rest.

You’re exhausted because you revolve your life around your family by planning, supporting, working, cleaning, driving, helping, hugging, kissing, mending and bending over backward to adapt to every change, every challenge and every choice.

You are a mom. A glorious, messy, smart, frazzled, wondrous, confused, determined mom. Nothing runs without you, and you can’t run on empty. So, it’s really okay to just rest.

This post originally appeared on The Pondering Nook.

Michelle Zunter is the creator of The Pondering Nook where she writes and shares about relationships, marriage, divorce, parenting, step-parenting, body-image and much more. Michelle is also a co-host at The Broad's Way Show podcast where similar topics are discussed. She is also an artist, mom, stepmom, wife, partner and friend.

Photo: Pixabay

To the mom that second-guesses her decisions all the time, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that raised her voice at her kids today, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that sometimes feels inadequate as a mother, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that feels guilty about leaving the house every day to go to work, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that feels like she can’t ever get ahead, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that just wanted to curl into the fetal position in the middle of Target, while her kids wreaked havoc on everything, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that always gets mom-shamed by her family members, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that compares herself to her friends, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that feels like a bad mom for just wanting to be alone sometimes, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that feels like no one else pulls their weight around the house, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that watches the dishes pile up in the sink and has no desire to wash them, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that dresses herself each day straight from the dryer, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that works hard to provide home-cooked meals every night that no one ever wants to eat, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that looks at herself in the mirror every morning, and hates what she sees, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that tries to keep her house in some sort of order, that no one else respects, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that let her kid eat three doughnuts for breakfast, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that hides in the closet to have a snack, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that’s shoveling food into her mouth, over the sink, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that was scanning the grocery store for the nearest exit, as her toddler was having a meltdown over their goldfish being two different sizes, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that wants to get through one episode her favorite Netflix show without getting interrupted, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that barely got through one load of laundry today, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that hates waking up early to pack school lunches, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that wants to just give the entire school drop-off line the middle finger, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that dropped an F-bomb in front of the kids, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that had Daniel Tiger babysit the kids for a bit, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that sat on her cell phone at the park, instead of socializing with the other moms, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that volunteered to bring napkins and plates to the classroom party, because she just didn’t want to bake or cook anything, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that feels like she is absolutely failing her children, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that spends so much time hoping that she raised her kids to be decent human beings, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that wants to savor every moment, but finds herself counting the hours until bedtime, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that ventured out of the house today, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that managed to get out of bed today, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that did her hair and makeup today, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that didn’t do her hair and makeup today, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that’s feeding her kids pizza, or chicken nuggets, or mac-n-cheese for the eighth time in a row, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that sent her kids to bed early, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that picked a fight with her husband out of sheer exhaustion, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that’s barely hanging on, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that’s begging for help, you’re doing a great job.

To the mom that just doesn’t feel like herself, you’re doing a great job.

For every mom out there—no matter what season you’re in, no matter what you’re going through, no matter what happened yesterday or today, and what happens tomorrow, for everyone that needs to hear this, because you DESERVE to hear this—you’re doing a great job.

This post originally appeared on Facebook.

My name is Dana and I am a not-so-typical Millennial woman navigating her way through marriage and motherhood, one clueless experience at a time. I am journeying into motherhood for the first time and hope others can relate to my utter lack of inexperience!

 

One of the biggest challenges of motherhood can be trying to avoid comparing your experiences with others. No two kids are alike and neither are any birthing, feeding or parenting journeys. One mom’s viral post that there’s no trophy for parenthood is a helpful reminder all moms should read.

Mom of three Ashley Gibson recently shared the wise words her husband spoke when she was preparing to give birth to their third baby. “‘There’s no trophy Ashley’ The best 4 words my husband could have said to me in that delivery room. It put my whole world as a Mom into perspective,” Gibson shared in a Love What Matters post on Facebook which has since gone viral.

When Gibson later worried about supplementing breastmilk with formula, her husband repeated the same comforting words. “When I was fretting about supplementing with some formula those first few days and not wanting to feel like I was already failing at breastfeeding I heard those words again, ‘There’s no trophy Ashley.’”

That’s when it hit her, “As moms in today’s world it can feel like we’re all competing for a trophy that doesn’t exist. I literally thought in that delivery room that I would somehow be ‘less than’ as mother for tapping out and asking for the drugs. Like there would be a gold medal or AT LEAST a gold sticker on my medical chart for having a natural birth. And I felt like I was letting some invisible committee down when we bought formula to help him pass the amniotic fluid he had swallowed,” she continues in her moving post.

Its an important reminder to all moms, both new and seasoned, that there’s no competition and no judge in this crazy game of motherhood so we should all stop putting so much pressure on ourselves to meet some nonexistent standard. “The only trophy you’ll carry through life is the bond you create with your baby. And like I’ve said before, we all go home from the hospital with a big basket of mesh undies and sanitary pads the size of our newborns no matter how glamorous our Insta pics look,” Gibson concludes.

—Shahrzad Warkentin

Featured photo: Courtesy of Kayla Mattox Photography 

 

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After facing infertility and going on to raise five kids, one mom decided to give the greatest gift she could to another mom when she donated her uterus.

After struggling to become pregnant for several years, Aprill Lane and her husband were diagnosed with infertility. They eventually adopted a son and had twins through in vitro fertilization—and were blessed again when they amazingly became pregnant naturally not once, but twice.

Now with five kids under seven, Lane decided that she wanted to give another struggling mom that same miraculous chance that she was given. “It’s heavy,” Lane said. “It’s a huge burden as a female feeling like you are failing the one part of you that you’re meant to do,” she told WFAA News, about grappling with infertility.

Last year Lane donated her uterus to an anonymous woman as part of a clinical trial at Baylor University Medical Center. The trials have already resulted in two successful births over the last two years.

Lane has also helped those struggling with infertility in other ways. In 2010, she founded AGC, a non-profit organization dedicated to providing both advocacy and scholarships for those struggling with infertility in the United States. The AGC Scholarship provides financial assistance to people who don’t otherwise have the resources to become parents while struggling with infertility.

—Shahrzad Warkentin

All photos: Courtesy of Aprill Lane

 

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