Growing up, I thought motherhood came with a manual. I thought, somehow, once you became a mother, you'd magically know what to do. You'd wake up at odd hours when your baby cried and just know whether it was hunger, colic, or gas. No training is required—just pure maternal instinct, right? 

That’s what we expect, anyway. From the moment a woman becomes a mother, there’s an invisible list handed to her, with boxes she’s expected to check. She should be omnipresent, always knowing what her child needs. Miss a single clue, make one wrong decision, and suddenly, she’s labelled as a bad mom. If a toddler trips and gets hurt? That’s her fault—she wasn’t careful enough. If a teenager rebels? She wasn’t attentive enough. If an adult child distances themselves? Maybe she was too controlling, perhaps even toxic. 

It’s like no matter what a mother does, she’s either too much or not enough. Never just right. 

I’ve seen this firsthand with my own mother. She’s a school teacher—a job she had long before my sister and I were born. But continuing her career wasn’t because our family supported her independence. It was simply a matter of survival. She had a government job, and we needed financial stability. Yet, despite this reality, our extended family couldn’t help but point fingers. 

"Aww, those poor kids. They stay home all day without their mother." 

"She has two daughters, and she lets them stay alone? What kind of mother does that?" 

"She can’t even attend a PTM (Parent-Teacher Meeting)? She’s failing her daughters." 

They never missed an opportunity to criticise, especially when my mother wasn’t around to defend herself. But these were the same people who would smile sweetly when they needed something from her—usually money. It’s funny how people can simultaneously judge you and rely on you. 

As a kid, I felt the sting too. It did feel strange when my parents missed my PTMs when I saw other moms there doting on their kids. But somehow, I never let it mess with my mind too much. Looking back, I admire my mother more than words can express. She was strong, and independent, and gave my sister and me a love that outweighed any absence at a school meeting. 

But it wasn’t just outside expectations that weighed on her. She carried the burden of being the perfect mother inside her too, a residue left from how her mother raised her. No matter how much she did, it was clear that not getting society's validation as the “perfect mother” hurt. 

I wasn’t always kind about it either. I’ve put my mom on a pedestal before, only to knock her off with something trivial. At the time I felt embarrassed because she couldn’t speak fluent English. What a silly thing to judge her for, in hindsight. 

But as I grew up, I realized something important: the whole concept of "perfect motherhood" is flawed. And worse, it’s toxic. No one, especially mothers, should have to meet impossible standards to be considered good enough. 

Over time, I’ve seen a shift. My mother, for instance, may have carried some societal baggage with her, but she made sure to break the cycle where she could. She avoided passing on much of the same garbage that messed her up. Now, my sister and I are doing our best to help her shed what’s left. She doesn’t need to live up to some outdated ideal, and neither does any other mother. 

The truth is, that mothers are human first. They don’t need to be perfect. They don’t need to sacrifice every piece of themselves to be good moms. And maybe that’s the story we need to start telling. 

Perfect motherhood? It doesn’t exist. And the sooner we stop expecting it to, the better off all mothers will be. 

Now go hug your mother! 

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