Moms, I have a new year's resolution for you.

Issue #91: ‘Tis the season to give gyaan to the womenz. Falalalala. Lalalala.

Hello ji,

Happy 2023!

Have you made your New Year’s resolutions yet? If not (and also if yes), read on.

Today I come to you bearing the thing I hate the most - unsolicited advice for women.

Among all the wonderful and touching emails I get from the readers of this newsletter, there is at least one a week that suggests I write a piece about how women can solve another problem I wrote about.

People not listening to you at work?

• Speak louder.

Husband not sharing your mental load at home?

• Lower your standards.

Stuck cooking and cleaning for an army of guests every festival?

• Hire help.

Have imposter syndrome?

• Don’t.

To each of these emails, I respond as politely as I can that - as a rule - I don’t write pieces that lay the burden of corrective action on women. Women already have enough on their plate.

Besides, I feel safe in entrusting the responsibility of victim blaming to… erm, I don’t know… the rest of the frickin’ world?

I know that the senders of these emails are not regular readers of Womaning because if they were, they would already know all this.

That said, this edition will be the exception that proves the rule.

‘Tis the season to give gyaan to the womenz. Falalalala. Lalalala.

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A defining moment in my motherhood journey so far.

In the last trimester of my pregnancy, I turned into an obsessive delivery story collector.

I was not unique.

I was just one of many masochistic women who actively seek out descriptions of how labour pain feels like being stabbed with burning hot knives from the inside out - among other descriptions of the wondrous process of bringing life into the world.

One testimonial that stood out for me came from a close friend who said, “Childbirth is not even the toughest part. Wait till you start breastfeeding. It will almost make you miss labour pain.”

“Now here was a woman who had evidently lost her mental faculties entirely”, I thought.

In my mind, breastfeeding was a very beautiful process that - if movies were to be believed (as they always are) - was fulfilling for both, mother and child. It was the pinnacle of motherhood joys and I was sure it would be just as rewarding as every stock photo of a smiling breastfeeding mother promised it to be.

Of course, Reality was an education.

Turns out, my unhinged friend had a point.

No lactation class had prepared me for the scenario of just not having enough supply for the baby. But there I was, with a baby screaming his lungs out because his mom was not able to satiate his hunger with the amount of milk her body produced.

A few weeks later, I also had the top-up benefit of a clogged duct. This made every feed so excruciatingly painful that I would bite my tongue hard and punch a pillow over and over again so that I didn’t scare the baby by screaming in pain like I needed to.

I tried feeding all day.

I tried feeding all night.

I tried this lovely thing called cluster feeding - which means feeding all 24 hours.

I tried pumping.

I tried till I no longer remembered what it felt like to not live in extreme pain all the time.

Despite everything, my baby was constantly hungry. And crying.

I was constantly sleep-deprived. Also crying.

The icing on this cake of misery was the unlimited supply of - you guessed it - unsolicited advice.

There were those cute little truisms (Breast is best),

criticisms (Why are you giving your baby formula? Don’t you love him?),

well-intentioned but ultimately hurtful advice (10 things you can eat to have more milk supply because this is clearly a choice you are making),

and cruel comments (Women these days delay having babies and then complain when they can’t breastfeed).

After four months of crying everyday, I decided to do the unthinkable: I stopped breastfeeding.

It came with a lot of guilt but I finally decided to stop putting myself through this hell.

And then, something magical happened.

Since anyone can feed a baby from a bottle, I was suddenly able to sleep a lot more. This also marked the beginning of the end of my postpartum depression.

With the daily pain and tears out of the way, I started actually enjoying motherhood - almost as much as the fake mothers on the posters do.

I was healthier, happier. And what’s more, my baby was healthier and happier!

I thought I was putting myself through hell for my kid. Turns out, my kid was suffering that hell too. As soon as I decided to choose my own happiness, he became happier automatically.

And then it dawned on me: All the motherhood messaging we are given is wrong.

You don’t have to immolate your joys to be a good mother.

You don’t have to always put yourself last.

The key to becoming a good mother is not to be selfless and self-sacrificial.

The key to being a good mother is to be selfish.

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“Being independent does not mean doing everything yourself.”

Like me, Ankita too had an ‘aha moment’ in her fourth trimester.

“I thought I had to be the ‘perfect mom’ who made all the right and perfect decisions about every single thing my baby needed. She had to have the perfect massage. She had to have the right soap. The right comb. The right blanket. Everything had to be perfect for her.

I would drive myself crazy researching all these small decisions. I think this is something that a lot of first-time moms also do.”

Ankita is right. We have no idea how to be a mother when we first take on the role. So we read every book, listen to every parenting podcast, follow every mommy page on social media, and Google everything on earth for our child. We have all been there.

Ankita says she found herself fretting too much over these minor decisions.

“I was doing this on and on and on. One day, my husband came to me when I was in one such research rabbit hole. He gently kept my phone aside, and asked me, ‘What will happen if you everything is not perfect? Look at her. She does not know or care what product or service you get for her. She only wants you.’

That moment gave me pause. I realized at that I was going so crazy trying to get everything right and perfect, that I had not taken the time to bond with my baby. I decided to ease up a bit on the research.”

Another lesson Ankita learned was how to ask for help.

“As soon as I learned to accept that I don't need to know every single thing about every single decision for the baby, I also learned that it was okay for me to rely on others. I learned to ask for help from others.

This was very, very hard for me. I had grown up believing that I had to be independent. I thought that meant doing everything myself. But the moment I stepped out of my comfort zone and started leaning on others around me, I found that I was able to really bond with my child. I could now focus on what she communicated to me instead of being focused on my cell phone, researching the smallest of things.”

Ankita feels that prioritizing her happiness led to two effects.

“One, asking for help made me feel less alone. I no longer carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I discovered that the people around me provided me with love and help when I needed it.

Two, opening up and being more vulnerable also made me a more relaxed person to be around for them. I could use the time and emergy I had freed up to invest in better relationships with my parents, my in-laws, my husband. Letting go improved the quality of my relationships with all of them.”

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“Mumma is in a meeting. She will come, don’t cry.”

When Komal’s first child was born, she wasn't sure if she wanted to continue working.

“I was leaning towards taking a break from work. But I had been working as an engineer for 15 years now. It was a big part of my identity. As my maternity leave progressed, I found myself thinking a lot about work and the exciting projects that I had been working on. I wondered who was working on them now, and if they had found solutions to the complex problems we were facing.

At the same time, I was going through severe postpartum depression. A few weeks before my joining, I got news that I had been promoted to Team Leader. The thought of going back to work to new challenges was my first taste of happiness under that dark cloud of depression. But I still struggled with the thought of leaving my baby at home and going back to work.”

As if on cue, Komal’s company also announced the opening of a daycare in her office.

“Going back to work was suddenly a viable option now. I went to my office two weeks before my leave was to end, and took the baby with me. I met my new team and visited the daycare inside the office premises.

I came back a changed person. For the first time, I felt excited about going back instead of feeling guilty.”

As soon as she changed her mental gears towards rejoining work, Komal saw an instant impact on her own happiness. Her baby’s happiness matched her own, step for step.

“It was like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I felt light for the first time in months. I spent the remainder of my leave planning my commute, logistics for pumping milk at work, etc. and started putting my kid on a schedule.

I noticed that my happy demeanour and the changes I was making had a huge positive impact on my baby. Suddenly, his colic subsided. To prepare him for creche, I started giving him dal ka pain, chawal ka pani, apple stew etc. I was able to take him on a stroll in his pram on a much regular basis, as I felt like myself again. All this made him more cheerful too.”

It was not as if life suddenly became smooth sailing from there. There were more challenges along the way. But armed with her newfound resolve to choose her own happiness, Komal managed to navigate them all.

“I still had nagging doubts about leaving my baby in the hands of a stranger. Plus, the initial few months were difficult as he fell sick a few times. There were times when I doubted my decision, and wondered if I had been too selfish. But I am extremely glad that I persevered.

I respect those who do it and enjoy it, but I knew I would be miserable if I became a stay-at-home mom. Whenever I felt like I was being too selfish, I reminded myself that there is no way my kid would thrive around a miserable mom.

He deserved a happy mom.”

Over the next few months and years, Komal saw many signs that confirmed her gut feeling: That her child was indeed better off because of her ‘selfish’ choice.

“Long term, he started eating a variety of foods - many of which we don’t even eat at home. He developed a strong immunity, which meant that going to school was a much easier transition for him.”

Komal recalls her proudest moment as a mother.

“I love that my son grew up in an environment that made him feel safe snd strong. One day, when I went to pick him up, a staff member told me that he was consoling a crying child at the daycare today, saying, ‘Mumma is in a meeting, aayegi abhi (she will come). Don't cry.’

If I ever needed a moment that validated my choice to pursue my dreams and happiness, my son could not have given me a better one.”

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“Go ahead with whatever makes you thrive in your life”

When Vartika’s son was born, her in-laws moved in to support the baby’s caregiving.

“They are great people and were a huge support to have around at the time. But - as it always happens when people live together in each other’s space - their stay was not without some friction. By the time my son was three, he did not need nonstop attention anymore. The cost of living together started outweighing the benefits.

They took notice of it themselves, and decided to move back to their home town. We supported their decision, of course.”

Once her in-laws left, Vartika had a choice to make - either stay at home to manage the child or put him in daycare.

“I had always been a working woman, and so we considered daycare first. I wondered if I was putting my need for my own space, or my need to work, over my son’s needs and jeopardizing his caregiving.”

Vartika and her husband chose a local daycare after looking at several options.

“We loved the place, but even as we took him there the first time, I was torn. I told my husband, ‘What are we doing? Let’s go back. I will quit my job and stay at home.’

He told me to at least try this option first. And in just a year, we could see how good daycare was for him. He loved it. He loved the kids. He talked about it all day. He got really fluent in Hindi which wouldn't have happened had he not stepped out of home.

Today, my son is seven and goes to school full time. He actually misses his daycare friends and asks me sometimes, ‘Mom, can I go to daycare after school?’”

Vartika says that this transition, albeit difficult, has also made life much happier for her and her partner.

“It gave me and my husband a much needed sanity. After three years of sharing our life, we finally had our own space. We could go to work without feeling guilty about leaving our son with parents and overburdening them. It also showed us what we could accomplish on our own as a little family. It gave me enormous satisfaction of being able to run things on my own after being dependent on my in-laws for so long.

I also loved having my own space. I liked having the freedom to just wear shorts around my house. I liked that I can sing loudly whenever I felt like it. I could exercise or do zumba in the living room without feeling self-conscious. We could invite friends, have a drink with them, have late nights. For the first time in years, I just genuinely felt free!”

Not only has the transition been great for Vartika’s personal happiness and her son’s growth, it has even benefitted her relationship with her in-laws.

“Living together full-time with in-laws works for some people. But it didn’t work for us. It has been four years since they moved out, and our relationship has vastly improved now. They still visit us, and come whenever we need them. Our relationship benefitted from the fact that we got our own space, and they got theirs. They are very appreciative of how we are raising our children.

I think the enduring lesson for me was that you should totally go ahead with whatever makes you thrive in your life. Because if you are unhappy, if you are sacrificing the things that make you happy - there is just no way that your kids and family are going to be happy.”

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“Happiness is an act of will”

Not everyone has the option to put distance between relationships to mend them. And yet, happiness can sometimes be within reach. Two months after the birth of Anita’s baby, she was not only managing her own recovery and the baby, but also a mentally and emotionally abusive family.

“Tempers would fly high in the family. My husband would shout a lot. My mother-in-law enjoyed playing petty politics.

One day, the baby was crying. My husband, as he often did, started shouting at me for not being able to keep him quiet. I brought the baby to my room, locked the door, put him gently on the bed, and said in a calm voice, ‘Beta, please stop crying.’

I am not exaggerating when I say that he stopped crying within one minute. That moment was a revelation for me. I decided that I will never let my child cry because the adults in the house could not manage their emotions.

It was clear that - even at this early age where children can barely see - my child was happiest when he sensed that I was calm and happy. I decided at that moment that going forward in life, I would prioritize my own happiness, followed by the happiness of my child.”

I want to underline here that tolerating abuse is not necessarily every woman’s only option. Nor is this to say that women suffering abuse are in any way to blame for it. This is just one woman’s story of how she chose to (and was able to) find joy, even in a dark place.

Anita says that being selfish about her happiness has changed her life.

“Happiness is an act of will. From that point on, the crying was outsourced to the family. They could scream and shout and criticise all they wanted. And they did. I didn’t care what food got cooked. I didn’t care how clean the house was. I didn’t care who was saying what about me, or even to me. I couldn’t change them, but I did create an oasis of laughter and happiness with my child which made us untouchable to all of it.

Unhappy mothers cannot raise happy children. Even today, when he is 15 years old, I deliberately prioritise my own happiness. I hope I set a healthy example for him to do the same for himself. Touchwood, he has grown up to have great sense of humour. We are a happy duo together. Puns, jokes, and laughter flow freely between us.”

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“I think I turned out to be a chauvinist husband myself.”

Arun grew up in a joint family. His parents, brother and he lived with his father’s parents and brother.

“My father was a banker who would be home only on weekends, if that. My mother was left alone to feed and fend for his family.

My uncle was unemployed, but an entitled man. My grandmother was demanding. Uncle couldn’t eat a morsel without complaining about what was served. Grandmother often commented loudly when a meal wasn’t served ‘on time’ according to her. All they had to do was sit at a table and eat. Clean plates would appear with rice and fish. And soiled ones with bones and chewed up vegetables would disappear.”

Arun says his mother’s life was grueling.

“A working mother, she would wake up at the break of dawn, prep the lunch and breakfast for the entire family, rush to work to teach high school kids, and then come back home to cook dinner - back to the drudgery, back to the constant complaints and bickering.

She was the epitome of what a ‘perfect daughter-in-law’ was expected to be in those days (even is today in many Indian families). She would be praised at family gatherings, but mostly behind her back.”

As Arun’s paternal grandparents aged, his mother became their primary caregiver.

“My grandfather would soil his bed every day, and she would clean him, feed him, take care of him. My grandmother, after a certain age, could not remember anything, but would often say how she would have been ‘well taken care of’ if her daughter was in charge of things - a jibe at my mother, of course.

But my mother smiled through every complaint, and kept trying to do better every time.

Today I doubt that her husband - my father - ever listened to her. If he understood her plight, he pretended not to. Who else would take care of his parents, and his unemployed and ungrateful brother?”

Arun and his brother grew up and went off to college. Sometime after this, his mother’s patience finally gave way.

“I don’t know when the dam broke. But it eventually did and she insisted on moving out. She and my father moved out of the family home. The decades of hard work were forgotten and the praises turned to criticism: ‘How selfish of her!’

Today, she still hasn’t completely broken the chains. There is still one man - my father - whose needs she puts before her own. Maybe she likes to, or maybe she is too conditioned by this point. But I doubt she has ever been truly free.”

Arun spoke with touching honesty about the effect his mother’s life and choices had on him as a husband.

“As a child, seeing my mother treated the way she was, I always felt helpless and angry. My brother felt that too. I remember a time when he had a spat with my father about it when he was just 10 years old.

I think growing up in a house like that, I turned out to be a chauvinist husband myself. Everyone would tell me that I am God’s gift to my wife because I did basic chores around the house. Thankfully, my wife was not like my mother and would keep giving me reality checks.

As I grew in my own marriage, a lot of my mother’s life flashed before my eyes. She suffered in silence my entire childhood, but at least she chose her happiness later in her life. At least she finally learned to be ‘selfish’.

One thing this taught me was to be mindful of what women do. Their untold struggles and stories. And maybe I am a little better human today than I was on my wedding day.”

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Giving up breastfeeding was my turning point, and every woman in these stories had her own.

If there is one common thread between these stories, it is this: The PSAs are wrong about motherhood.

A good mom is not Mother India. She does not have to bear the weight of sacrifice on her shoulders.

On the contrary, if being a good mother is your goal, it is your duty to put your happiness first.

Not that you should need any other reason to prioritize joy than joy itself.

So here is my new year resolution:

This year, I resolve to be more selfish.

I resolve to protect my happiness like my life depended on it.

Because it does.

Men: Next time you feel the urge to give unsolicited advice to a woman, send this piece to a mom you know. And see if you can help her follow it because old habits die hard, even when it is the dirty habit to always put yourself last.

Women: If this piece has encouraged you to adopt a selfish resolution for yourself, I would love to hear it! Subscribers reading this in their inbox can simply hit reply to send me their resolutions. Or you can leave it in a comment below.

I wish you - and every woman you love - a selfish 2023!

‘Tis the year to be selfish. Falalalala. Lalalala.

Mahima

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