I Am A Woman, I Am A Mother And Although I Am Not Perfect I Know What My Priorities Are

Society is always in charge of putting different terms about us almost since we came into the world : we are daughters, sisters, the perfect couple, friends, we are hard-working, we are strong, we are beautiful, brave and sometimes even vulnerable.

Being a woman implies having to listen to the most varied labels, the most varied terms, but the one that counts, the one that is worth the most, is the one with which one defines oneself.

“I’m a mother”. This is undoubtedly the definition that makes us most proud, however we express it and we also feel it with a touch of adequate humility, for a very simple reason: we know that we are not perfect.

Motherhood is a process of continuous growth where we never stop learning, where one must make certain mistakes to correct them, where we are always receptive to the needs of our children.

We are also women who have learned to love themselves. We are mothers who are very clear about their priorities because we have gone through a series of situations, moments and difficulties from which to obtain reflection and teaching. All this gives us an exceptional backpack, an added value that cannot be seen but can be felt. That one perceives.

With all this we want to make something very simple clear: beyond what society says about women, the labels that they like to put on us at all times, there is only one opinion that is worth: ours.

You are not perfect, but you are IMPORTANT

Carl Gustav Jung said in his works that all human beings are born with an innate ability to recognize our mother. What we hope to find in her is not just food, it is protection, affection and care.

Jung defined this natural instinct as part of our collective unconscious, as a learning that we all share as a species and that makes us look for this significant figure as soon as we arrive in the world.

• Now, despite the fact that until now it has not been possible to scientifically prove the existence of this psychic tissue where the classic archetypes of the Swiss psychiatrist and our collective unconscious live, what neuroscience does tell us is that the baby has the natural capacity to be able to recognize his mother and to understand that his survival depends on her.

• It is clear, however, that the figure of the father is just as important, just as essential, but the child’s brain is closely linked to the mother, so that those first experiences, that first imprint based on a secure and significant attachment, will guarantee without doubt its adequate development, its emotional stability …

So, you shouldn’t doubt for a moment your relevance as a mother. You can be fallible in many other ways, imperfect in some area of ​​your life. However, for that little creature that has just been born, you are everything. You are his world, his sustenance, his warm skin where he can feel safe, you are his best refuge.

Imperfect mothers living in real worlds

There is a book as entertaining as it is true entitled “The Imperfect Mom: Sincere Confessions from Mothers Who Live in the Real World.” by Therese J. Borchard.

In it we are told anecdotes and such complicated, hilarious and desperate situations with which many moms and dads will identify themselves.

• Any story that we can find is that of the author’s own son. When he was only 4 years old, he pushed another boy to the Chesapeake Bay, in Virginia, United States. The other boy, 5 years old, was only soaked, there was no greater severity. However, from that day on, Therese J. Borchard went from being the ideal mother, to the mother of a “little psychopath”.
• That is how they defined her for a long time, until she managed to regain her status as a good mother among the community of concerned parents, unable to understand the punctual and thoughtless behavior of a four-year-old child.

The book also tells us about the bad conscience that we sometimes have for not being able to spend more hours with our children, or why sometimes we give in to their blackmailing and buy them what they ask of us or cook something unhealthy one night that they ask us insistently.

They are daily realities for which sometimes, we come to doubt ourselves, in which we perceive ourselves as bad mothers. When in reality, each act, each assignment, each concern and in essence, everything we do, responds exclusively to the infinite and immeasurable love that we profess for them.