Motherhood: A life of servitude

It’s 9pm.

I’m laying on my side with my cheek smooshed against the floor. Holding her little hand through the cot bars, I’m praying she’s fallen asleep. I’ve had enough of today.

It’s been one of those days. Amongst the stresses of my career, the lockdown, and running after a two year old, I’m suffering from serious burnout.

The (very late) evenings are usually a blissful time when I’m alone and can finally hear myself think. I guess tonight wasn’t meant to be. Yet again.

The life of a mum is a complex one. For most of us, we chose this life and we were pretty flipping excited about it. It looks great in the movies and we all want a little mini-me to love and care for.

While it is amazing to bring life into the world, what is seldom discussed is the toll it takes on the woman in the equation.

Motherhood means being on call 24/7 — twenty-four-seven. You’ve got to find the energy from somewhere, so we’ve turned ‘digging deep’ into an art.

What is digging deep, you ask?

Digging deep is like having full-blown flu but keeping calm and carrying on. So imagine, you have flu: the fever, the headaches, and you can barely get out of bed. So imagine having the flu and going to work like nothing’s wrong.

Imagine still having to give 110% to the workday (when you’re dying inside) and working until 8pm. Oh- then having only 4 hours of undisturbed sleep and doing it all over again the next day.

Digging deep. Summoning that last morsel of energy. Pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, and through the tears so you can get shit done. Also, acknowledging that nobody gives a damn about how you feel because “All women go through it”, right?

Apparently, we shouldn’t complain about motherhood. Any utterance of despair is a crime against women unable to have their own children. Mums should be these happy grateful little creatures all the time and stop their whining.

This despair starts from the moment they’re born. I remember, before I had kids, one of my closest friends had a new baby.

We went to visit her, two weeks afterwards and I was horrified. It was 6pm and she hadn’t showered or brushed her teeth yet. “What the hell?” I said. “Well,” she said, “When he finally goes to sleep I have to clean, wash the bottles, use the breast pump, and maybe eat. There’s no time to rest. I’m on call ALL the time.”.

“Maybe eat??”

I could slap my forehead with the extent of my naivety. Of course, she hadn’t showered and when would she eat? The baby comes first and you’re left with the scraps of time left over. If there is time left over, that is.

You’re a mum now, so you’re now at the beck and call of everybody: your kids and your partner. Ok, your partner you can ignore, your kids you cannot.

Most men are socialised to work and provide. Which is fine, if it was 1950, which it isn’t. Women are expected to give 100% to their jobs, 100% to their kids, 100% to their partner. We also need to keep the house clean, maintain a social life, be fit and healthy, and of course, not complain.

Women ‘having it all’ is a well-constructed lie. Something’s gotta give and it’s usually the woman.

I guess there is no way to explain the motherhood experience. You’ll only truly understand once your knee-deep in it yourself.

I saw a ‘hilarious’ thread on Twitter the other day. A mum was participating in house wars with her husband and kids. She was fed up with being the housemaid. She was sick of doing all the cooking, washing up, laundry, cleaning, everything. She was being taken advantage of — but news flash Hunny, that’s what kids do. And husbands too — if you let them.

There is this illusion of motherhood, which isn’t the reality that most of us are confronted with. Just as we took our mothers for granted, our children will take us for granted too, and thus the cycle continues.

Motherhood is a thankless job and a life of eternal servitude. Although I don’t regret it, I was definitely ill-prepared and I place the blame firmly on society.

Men also need to be more supportive of their partners. The burden of responsibility shouldn’t be placed at the feet of the mother alone. We shouldn’t be expected to work ourselves to death when there’s another adult in the house.

Mums aren’t superheroes. We have no choice, so we get shit done.