BABY

What motherhood means to The Unmumsy Mum

First published on Friday 23 September 2016 Last modified on Friday 18 December 2020

Do you feel different once you become a mum? Is it an immediate thing or does feeling like a mum gradually creep up on you?

This page contains affiliate links, which means we may earn a small amount of money if a reader clicks through and makes a purchase. All our articles and reviews are written independently by the Netmums editorial team.

We love this blog by Sarah from The Unmumsy Mum's Guide to Motherhood which reveals what motherhood means to her. Her blog post was featured on the #beingamother project at Motherhood: The Real Deal, which is packed with brilliant blogs about being a mum.

What motherhood means to The Unmumsy Mum

A couple of weeks after Boy One was born, a friend asked me “So do you feel, you know, different now you’re a mum?”

“No,” I said. “Not really”.

FREE NEWBORN NAPPIES

I mean I felt differently physically. My boobs were like boulders and half a stone of human had just emerged from my vagina. I’d had finer hours.

But emotionally, mentally, in my head ... no, I felt very much the same. I looked in the mirror and saw a fatter and more tired version of myself but it was the Same Old Me. Holding a baby.

Sure, being a parent had kick-started a massive wave of changes to my life and body but it wouldn’t change my personality. Amongst the nappies and the muslins and the breast pads I was just the same. I wouldn’t let the Old Me be swamped by the Mum Me. Motherhood certainly wouldn’t define me …

Well, three years (and another baby) later and I have wavered on this.

I had a bit of a moment in the car recently. I was alone, on my way to the childminder’s, and I had dared to put a CD on. A compilation. A MIX TAPE. Clearly I was kidding myself that I still went out drinking and dancing and thinking I was cool because Jay Z’s ‘Niggas in Paris’ featured on this CD. I know. And at the exact same time I turned up “ball so hard muhf*ckas wanna fine me” I caught sight of myself in the rear-view mirror. I glanced the Maxi-Cosi car seat and cat shaped sun shade. I spied the slightly crinkly corner of my eye and the shit job I had done at concealing my under-eye bags. And I suddenly felt like a tw*t for singing about muhf*ckas.

I felt like a mum.

The sun shade and the car seat and the fact I would imminently be swapping Jay Z for the Disney CD proved my life is not the same.

Having children has changed it beyond words. I no longer feel care-free.

I feel an enormous responsibility not to f*ck it all up, to make sure I keep them safe and happy.

I feel anxious that I am not good enough. That they deserve better because sometimes I don’t cope all that well. I don’t love every second. I shout. I swear. I cry. Sometimes I long for the life when I listened to mix tapes and had nights out and didn’t have under-eye bags.

I look at my boys and can’t quite believe they are mine. I can’t quite believe I made actual proper small human beings. They are my masterpieces and I will never have anything more important to my name.

My boys have changed me.

I am not the same. I am no longer resisting the change.