Last week, I bumped into my dear friend and colleague, Lisa, in the parking lot of the preschool our kids attend.
“Hey! Did you get a new vehicle?” I asked.
“No, I was in an accident,” she replied.
“Oh no! Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Because I’m not the type to bring everyone down,” she said.
“Wait a second … You were in an accident, a full-blown crash, and didn’t say a word?”
“I’ve just been having a rough week. I lost my temper with the kids yesterday for no reason, and then again this morning. I feel like I’m failing at everything…”
I could see the familiar thread of unraveling tension that I often keep tucked away next to my own late-night snack stash, but she was determined not to cry.
Lisa had taken a mental health day from work, feeling overwhelmed by everything piling up. Between losing her cool with her boys, feeling frustrated with her partner, and questioning her life choices, she needed some time to binge-watch her favorite shows. Standing there, as the brisk morning air swirled around us, I listened to this strong woman, who I care deeply for, spiral into self-doubt. It was a ritual I had seen and participated in with my friends, my sister, and even my own mother. I waited for the right moment to intervene.
“It’s just a rough patch, that’s all,” I said, stepping closer. “It doesn’t define you as a mother, a wife, or a person. We all have days when we feel completely overwhelmed. I was there last week; now it’s your turn. This too shall pass, I promise.”
In other words: “I recognize you. I relate to you. I still care for you, and so does your family.”
It’s time we stop pretending. Being a mother is a challenging role on any given day. Those who think they can easily climb the ladder of motherhood have another thing coming. Between the demands, the endless to-do lists, and the hours spent juggling tasks, just getting through the day is a significant achievement.
As mothers, we experience a variety of days: days when there’s enough milk for breakfast and days when we discover it’s two weeks past the expiration date after pouring it into the bowl. Days when we catch the bus and days when we’re running after it, only to be scolded by the driver. Days when we find both shoes and days when we can’t locate even one. The job is no joke, and it’s not meant for the faint-hearted. Yet, it often leaves us feeling weak and drained.
I can usually tell what kind of day I’m in for based on how my kids wake up. It’s like sensing a storm brewing. But we don’t show our struggle; we smile, push forward, and bury our frustrations deep down, believing it will somehow make us better mothers, wives, or women. But that’s just not true.
I often joke, “God makes them adorable so you don’t return them.” In my case, He also made my daughters hilarious; He knew I needed that balance.
One particularly tough morning, I broke the mom code and let the truth slip out. When a colleague asked how my morning was going, I said, “Oh, I’m alright, except I feel like going on strike against my entire family for a few days.” Her eyes lit up as she recognized the unspoken truth.
“You know,” she said, like a kid spilling a secret, “once when my kids were younger, I told my husband that my sister needed me, and I checked into a hotel for the weekend. I ate, shopped, and watched TV.” We both laughed, realizing how many times we should have invited other moms to share their own stories of struggle.
In that parking lot, I could see the internal battle raging within Lisa. One side urged her to be open and honest about her feelings, while the other insisted on maintaining a facade of perfection. I understood that fight well—the dilemma of how much to reveal, when to share it, and the fear of judgment that often accompanies our vulnerabilities.
Women are incredibly capable. We are proactive and organized, ensuring everyone is fed, dressed, and out the door. We handle permission slips, schedule doctor’s appointments, and discuss every detail about our children’s health. We do this because someone must. Yet, sometimes, that responsibility weighs us down.
In holistic nursing, there’s a term called Code Violet, which signifies a caregiver in emotional distress. They wear a purple bracelet to indicate their need for compassion and understanding. I propose we establish a similar code for mothers—perhaps Code Yellow or even Code Brown (indicating we’re in deep trouble). This way, we can extend support, hugs, or even a drink to fellow moms who are struggling.
If you happen to have a picture-perfect household with a flawless partner and perfectly behaved kids, that’s fantastic. But for many of us, loneliness can creep in. We often feel isolated in our frustrations or in our desire to unwind after a long week instead of sitting in the carpool line. It’s easy to believe that our neighbors’ homes are perpetually spotless while ours seems to attract dust like a magnet.
But introducing a “Code Brown” could transform our community. For instance, if I saw you staring at wine bottles with a tear in your eye and noticed your brown wristband, I’d offer to take your kids for an hour, no questions asked. And you might return the favor when you saw me struggling with a tantrum in a smelly play area. We could create a network of emotional support based on mutual understanding.
So, who’s on board? Let’s shed the stigma surrounding our challenges and choose to lift each other up. I’m more than happy to have your kids over for a playdate without any expectations. I’m here to listen to your stories of the chaos that unfolded over dinner last night. A mother’s struggles resonate most with another mother, and I believe that expressing those feelings can help us heal.
This article was originally published on July 27, 2018.
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In summary, supporting one another in motherhood is essential. By dropping the pretense and sharing our truths, we can create a nurturing environment where every mother feels seen and understood. Together, we can navigate the ups and downs of parenthood.
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