Before we become mothers, most of us had already met her, the mother we thought we’d be. She’s calm, endlessly patient, impossibly put together.
Her children eat their greens, adore her company and have never so much as glimpsed a screen. She has the work-life balance nailed, the discipline sorted, and she absolutely never raises her voice. And then the children actually arrive, and she quietly disappears, replaced by someone altogether more real. In her place comes the mad race of the school run, the four-month sausage-and-beans phase, the threenager who dresses himself in head-to-toe Lightning McQueen, and the startling discovery that no day goes to plan, least of all the ones you plan the hardest. But she also brings unexpected gifts: reserves of patience you never knew existed, friendships deeper than any before, little best buddies you’re utterly content just to be around, and a heart cracked wide open to the world.
So we asked some brilliant women – founders, authors, journalists, stylists and consultants – to get honest about the gap between the mother they imagined and the mother they became. Their answers are funny, moving and reassuringly imperfect. Because as it turns out, none of us are the mothers we thought we’d be. We’re something far more interesting: real.
Sheena Bhattessa, Founder
I never gave motherhood a single thought until I was pregnant. But the moment I was, a version of the mother I’d be appeared in my head almost fully formed – and she never raised her voice. I was going to be the cool one, the best friend, the mum whose kids didn’t need screens because there was always colouring spread across the table (how wrong I was), always time to talk, always another game to play. In nine months I had it all figured out before I’d even begun.
What I didn’t know is that children have good days and bad days, and on-their-own-schedule kind of days, and absolutely no day goes to plan, least of all the ones you plan the hardest. I’m a stickler for time keeping and that is absolutely out the window (taking 3 toddlers out the door is no less than a 30 minute exercise). I thought I’d always be put together, and I’m not (school runs behold), I thought I’d have the work-life balance totally down, but it turns out there’s no balance in it at all – it’s a constant mad race, one I love and hate in equal measure, often in the same hour. But motherhood surprised me in ways I never saw coming. I found patience in myself I never knew existed, deeper than I could have imagined. And while I may not be the effortlessly cool best friend I’d pictured, what I found instead was better – little best buddies, a whole gang of them, and I have utter contentment in their company. Park days are some of my favourites when I don’t look at a phone and I’m so deeply enjoying our conversations and simply playing. I never expected to be this happy just being with them. And I never anticipated the guilt – the enormous, aching weight of it – every time I’m not there. I didn’t expect to be perfect, but I certainly am more ‘real’ than I imagined. And so are the mum friendships I’ve found along the way, more patient and understanding than any I’d known before, opening my eyes and heart to a depth of connection I never expected. It’s all harder but far better than I ever imagined.
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Whitney Bromberg Hawkins, CEO and Founder of FLOWERBX
Becoming a mother changed me in ways I never could have imagined. Before having children, I thought I would have to grow into motherhood, that my maternal instincts would develop over time. Instead, the moment I held my first child in my arms, it was immediate. Motherhood hit me with the power of a bolt of lightening. In that instant, I understood what unconditional love truly meant.
Motherhood has reshaped my ambitions and values, naturally and automatically. I discovered how effortless it is to put my children before myself in everything I do. Every decision I make is guided by what is best for them and the future I want to help create for them. Being the mother of Barron, Snowdon, and Wallis inspires me every day to become the very best version of myself and to push myself in all that I do with integrity, resilience, hustle and grit, because I know they are learning by my example. I want them to grow up seeing the values I hope they will carry throughout their own lives in action.
Above all, motherhood has brought a sense of joy and fulfilment I never knew was possible. Being their mom completes me in a way I could never have imagined, and it is the greatest privilege of my life.
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Ella Alexander, Fashion Features Director
As a family who always grew up sitting round a dinner table eating and trying different foods, I always thought I’d impart similar traditions and habits to my child. Breaking bread with my siblings (or rather arguing about who was given the biggest portions), was as much about discussing our lives as it was the food. My mum is a brilliant cook, and always made something delicious out of nothing – often vats of pasta where there was always room for one more. I am slightly horrified that my son’s reality is very different. He is going through a period where he almost exclusively eats sausages and beans – a phase that to date has lasted four months. His nursery teachers tell me he eats different food there, but no matter how much I try and present him with other options, he remains absolute. The absence of anything green makes me worry that he will perhaps become the youngest person to ever get gout. We also don’t eat together – Lenny sits at his high chair where he’s allowed his only stint of daily screentime while he eats his dinner. It isn’t a habit I’m proud of, but, honestly, I don’t want to eat at 6pm and I’m grateful for the 30 minutes of calm that it affords. It’s a work in progress.
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Dolly Jones, Author and Consultant
Before having children I thought I would emulate the same presence as my “stay-at-home” mother while also mirroring my father’s work-ethic. When I was writing my book, Leaving The Ladder Down, which involved interviewing hundreds of (mostly) women about combining their careers with motherhood, I spoke to many who felt the same. It was pertinent particularly to my generation because it wasn’t unusual to have the mother stay at home and the working father as the breadwinner (I was born in 1975; 15 years before the Finance Act recognised a woman’s income as her own rather than an extension of her husband’s). My mother didn’t work professionally, but there were five of us, so she worked really, really hard, and of course supported my father’s career. I wanted to be 100 per cent available to my children as she was, but also work to the same rigorous degree that he had. This idea – that many women had and have – obviously doesn’t work because none of us can be two people at once.
Pre-children, it didn’t occur to me that I would want to work any less, and I never have wanted to work any less. Two children later, my approach has changed – but it was slow to. It became clear during lockdown. I was trying to write the book, and my husband was paying our mortgage because he was still working full-time. I felt really depleted by not earning and the sense that I was handing him all our financial pressure, and I was struggling to write because I was homeschooling the children and trying to keep us all mentally and physically healthy. One day, Rob said, “Why don’t you tot up mentally what we would pay someone else for everything you do for us – each time you give the children a bath or make them lunch, add it to an imaginary bank account?” It prompted me to reflect on the value of the work I do for us as a family that doesn’t actually generate cash, and that made me feel successful on a personal level. I used to associate success with financial validation, because when I was young my father talked a lot about financial security – so I wanted to be the one generating that peace of mind. But now there are two of us contributing to all aspects of our life, so validation comes from the children’s safety, happiness, us all just being able to function. I have learnt – gradually – that you can’t be two people at once.
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Frida Redknapp, Health & wellness advocate, Founder of Frood
I don’t think I knew exactly what kind of mother I’d be before having children, but I certainly thought I’d have all the answers. In my twenties, I threw myself into motherhood wholeheartedly. I loved it. I was determined to be the best mum I could possibly be and approached it at a hundred miles an hour, pouring all my energy into my children and family. It felt completely right for that stage of my life. Now, in my forties, I see motherhood a little differently. My oldest is 20 and my youngest is 4, and they’re being raised by two very different versions of me. With age has come perspective. I know now just how quickly the years pass, so I savour the small moments far more. I’m calmer and more considered, and I worry less about getting everything perfect.
Before becoming a mother, I imagined I’d make all the “right” choices. I was convinced my children wouldn’t have sugary treats or junk food. The reality is that while we eat very healthily at home, life is about balance. Birthday parties, celebrations and the occasional treat are part of childhood, and I’ve learned that constant restriction isn’t healthy either.
Perhaps the biggest surprise has been learning that perfection isn’t what our children need. What they need is love, presence and kindness. Motherhood has taught me that if our children can learn to feel at ease within themselves, they’ll find it much easier to navigate the world around them. That’s something I understand far better now than I ever did when I first became a mum.
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Kelly Eastwood, Conscious Fashion and Lifestyle Creator and Contributor
@thelondonchatter
Before I became a mother, I thought a lot about the kind of parent I’d be. I imagined the values I’d pass on, the boundaries I’d hold, and the parts of myself I’d preserve. What I didn’t expect was how profoundly motherhood would change ME! I assumed I knew where my limits were. Instead, motherhood has shown me reserves I didn’t know existed. Just when I’m convinced I have nothing left to give, somehow a whoooole new layer appears… then another! It’s revealed a resilience I never knew I had.
But the bigger surprise is that I thought becoming a mother would make my world smaller. In fact, it made it much bigger. Before having a child, I understood intellectually that parents loved their children, of course. What I didn’t fully grasp was the fierce instinct to protect them, and the lengths people will go to in order to give them a better future. Motherhood has made me feel more deeply the desperation of refugees, ache when I see mothers grieving children lost to war and genocide, and connect with women across every divide.
It’s also made me far less concerned with other people’s opinions. When children are involved, right and wrong can feel startlingly clear. I thought motherhood would make me more protective of my own child… Instead, it made me care more fiercely about all children. That’s what led me to join the committees of mothers2mothers and Women for Women International UK, and to support Choose Love. Motherhood softened me in some ways, but it also made me a force in others!
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Rachel Story, Style and Commerce Director
I used to think I’d be the strict parent. I imagined I’d have to play bad cop while my lovely husband would be the ultimate walkover when the time came. But oh, how wrong was I. I was that childless onlooker who would watch a meltdown of epic proportions in the supermarket and smugly think to myself, “oh, that’ll never be me” (ha), and while we’re relatively meltdown-free, I confess that most days I feel like I have little to no control, and my disciplinary skills are genuinely pathetic. If you asked my son who the boss of our house is, he would undoubtedly say him and, to be honest, he wouldn’t be wrong. As a former stylist, I also thought he would always be dressed impeccably, even for nursery, in lovely muted shades, pastels and stripes. So naturally his favourite colour is bright red, and his wardrobe is practically sponsored by Hot Wheels and Lightning McQueen at this point. And don’t even get me started on trying to get him dressed. Every single day is a battle at the moment, and we’re already at the stage where he dictates what he wants to wear both morning and night – another thing I swore I would never lose control over! However, on the flip side, despite having a threenager with no dress sense who mostly refuses to listen to his mummy, he’s confident, has already formed genuine and meaningful friendships, he’s polite, and he’ll happily talk the ear off a stranger – and for that, I wouldn’t trade a thing.
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Jessica Salter, Journalist
Beyond picturing myself holding a baby, I’m not sure I really thought much about what kind of parent I would be before I had children. I’d hazard a guess that most of us fixate on how much we want a baby, without truly thinking about what it means to parent a child, a teenager, a young adult… But if I had thought about it, I think I’d have thought I’d be quite easy going. Because that is obviously the coolest way to be. I’m not sure why: I’m the oldest girl, type A personality and when I had my first baby, I turned my ferocious work energy into creating the perfect nap schedule (and inevitably failing). I’ve repeated this formula worrying over upping their veg intake, lowering their sugar, keeping strict bedtimes, limiting screen time to the odd iPlayer-approved cartoon and a weekly family film. What I realise, thinking about my rigid rules, is that it comes from a deep, aching desire to protect them and to give them the most perfect foundations. That if I can control the bits of our tiny little microcosm inside our own house, then they are set up for whatever else the outside world throws at them. I know, realistically, that my powers are limited, but that doesn’t stop me (endlessly) trying. It’s the opposite of easy-breezy, and it’s desperately uncool. But that’s all I’ve got in my toolbox. That and insisting on saying “please” and “thank you”.
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Rose Stokes, Journalist
Like most other mothers, I feel pretty certain that I was the ‘best mum I could be’ before I actually had kids – that is to say that the imagined version of motherhood I had in mind was very different from the reality when it came to it for me. Before I actually had kids, I was of course very opinionated on all the biggest flash points of modern parenting: screens, sugar, boundaries. And beyond that, the idea of the ‘natural mother’ that was socialised into me from a young age felt a lot like a prison when I actually came to learning how to be the mother to my own children. The notion that any of it would be in any way natural was a farse, and I really do believe that had I accepted it was a new job I had to learn how to do as I went, the huge gap between my expectations and reality would have narrowed. Perhaps that would have made the transition to motherhood easier. For me, finding my comfortable space in motherhood has been about finding happy mediums — and discovering the art of ‘good enough’. What I do feel very confident saying now, four years and two kids in, is that YOUR motherhood is what YOU need and want it to be. It is such a personal experience for you and your child. The sooner you accept that and let go of everyone else’s expectations (perceived or real), the much more fun the gig becomes.
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