Being Invisible as a Mum

I’ve realised a harsh reality. So harsh, it actually upsets me if I think about it for too long. 

After having my first baby I was so self conscious of not only how I looked, but also of how I was performing as a mother. The eyes I thought  I felt on me were from all sorts. People in the shopping centre, people I walk past on the street, someone who I accidentally made eye contact with in the gym. I was so convinced I was being looked at and judged it made me miserable. And I’ve been in that mindset for the past two and a half years until my latest realisation. 

The realisation that, not only are the vast majority not looking at or judging me, they actually don’t see me at all. Now I don’t know what’s more upsetting, being acknowledged with judgement or being completely invisible. 

From extrovert to anxiety ridden

From a young girl I had always been hyper aware of anyone looking at me. Whether it was a peer, a stranger, a friend, family member - anyone at all. I was a super extrovert kid, always performing, constantly seeking attention and to this day my own mum never lets me forget how ‘full on’ I was. Then, once puberty knocked on my door and some very undesirable experiences took place (I won’t get into what they were but lets just say they were enough to dull the spark of a vibrant young girl), I started being far more selective about the attention I wanted. In public I was overcome with anxiety, constantly stressing about what anyone else was thinking about me and that carried over into adulthood. By the time I was in my thirties I was having regular panic attacks during normal daily tasks. Panic attacks would hit before walking into the gym, being at a shopping centre or on my way to see friends. It was constant. 

Then, I fell pregnant. Not on purpose, not during a time when we thought we could handle it and to be brutally honest, not during a period of life when we wanted kids. But, it was the best thing to happen to me and my anxiety. I was too caught up in being pregnant (and having my ass handed to me with intense morning sickness) while preparing for motherhood that there wasn’t any mental capacity left for self conscious feelings. When baby arrived, the newborn bubble acted like the warmest hug and fiercest shield against everything outside of our new family unit. That was until my first mothers group meeting. 

Comparison and competition 

My first mothers group actually wasn’t bad at all. I lucked out on having really great women that just so happened to have given birth around the same time as me and lived in the same suburb. I walked in thinking I was going to meet my new best friends, but I wasn’t prepared for the comparison. Not just comparison between our babies and their milestone achievements but comparison between us as mums. Which of us were using the best brands, taking our kids to the best experiences, investing the most into the ‘right’ toys for their development. That’s when I first started feeling like loving my baby actually wasn’t enough, if I truly loved them I would be enrolling them in exclusive sensory classes, buying the most expensive Ergobaby carrier, only filling their drawers with 100% organic cotton clothing. The list was exhaustive.

No one said I had to do anything differently. No one even made the smallest sideways comment about my kid wearing second hand clothes after I proudly professed it, before finding out everyone else was only buying brand new top notch stuff for their kids. But I felt it, and I stopped sharing our reality. Our reality that I was a stay at home mum with no intention to return to work. That everything for our baby, bar what was gifted to us was second hand. That we were still living in a tiny two bedroom apartment we had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to because the rent was cheap and it was what we could afford. 

That’s when I regressed into obsessing about how others were thinking of me and not just about how I looked (because hey, postpartum was not kind to me after gaining 20 kilos during pregnancy). Because now, it wasn't just how others saw me, I felt judgement trickled down to my kid and that was something I felt guilty about. 

Judgement eyes 

For months, even years I would tell myself “Ah whatever, if they want flashy stuff that’s their prerogative. I’m not going to stop enjoying being thrifty because they look down on it.” For a time I convinced myself I really felt that way, until I met more and more mums and realised hardly any of them were doing the same way as us. It was isolating and truthfully, embarrassing. I worried other mums would look at my secondhand pram and be thinking “yea, we can tell it’s secondhand honey”. News flash: They didn’t. But I was convinced and consumed with worrying about it. 

It spilled over into thinking everyone thought that. The worker stocking the shelves in the supermarket, the elderly woman pushing her trolley, even the damn school kids in their uniforms buying a chocolate bar after school - everyone had a dialogue in my head and it was all negative, judgemental and unflattering. It wasn’t until now that I realised something. 

After having our second baby, I decided to ask for something that would be an investment into me, my wellbeing and health. A double running pram. My darling husband was only too happy to get it as long as I did my research and found the best one for us and after weeks on weeks of to-and-fro, I settled on one and we bought it brand new. Now let me tell you, it is the most lush, beautiful pram I’ve ever seen. Not because it’s a design marvel but because it’s exactly what I wanted and I couldn’t be happier with it. 

While pushing it around the supermarket, distracted by the running grocery list in my head, it suddenly occurred to me. No one cared, noticed or even gave a rats ass the pram I was pushing around. No one stopped me in the isle and said “oh my god, is that a new pram? I saw you with an old crusty one last week but this is an absolute upgrade!”, or “wow, only a mum who adores her kids would get such a gorgeous pram for them.” It was the opposite, to the degree of not even being noticed at all. And right there in the middle of the supermarket, next to the dried herbs and spices is where my new fear was unlocked. 

Invisibility cloak  

Just like in Harry Potter, pushing a stroller, having kids, so obviously being a mum had made me invisible. The shift in my mindset was immediate. From that running dialogue of judgemental statements from every passer by, to silence. The most provocative action I could elicit was a slight smile from another mum of young kids, no doubt in the trenches herself and giving a nod to a fellow comrade passing her by in the battle field. But besides that, as a unit, my kids and I were nothing more than a wide load navigating shopping isles for others to weave around. When acknowledgement did come, it was of the kids. The “oh so sweet, how old?”, “aren’t you adorable!?” and “such a sweet age” never failed to make a cameo in our outings but besides that, my kids may as well have been pushed around by an AI robot no one speaks to. 

 

Reality set in: I had become invisible. Some might think that’s a superpower and in truth it actually is, but from struggling to be only known as a mum to being reduced to unseen was confronting. I haven’t known how to deal with it but now as I’m writing this, I think I know why it bothers me and how to turn my mentality from bothered to at peace. 

New status acceptance 

Okay, here it is. I need to admit something first otherwise I’d be lying to you and more importantly, myself. I want to be noticed by others because I want validation. We all hear so much about not relying on others for validation, especially strangers but I think it’s an inevitable and in some ways, essential part of developing, and here’s why. Validation means you belong, you’re doing it right, even moreso, you’re not messing it up. As a young girl, I needed validation to tell me what I was doing was correct or admirable. As a young woman, I wanted validation to tell me I was enough to be loved and accepted. As a mother, I need validation to tell me I’m not ruining them and that I haven’t ruined myself. 

‘Ruined’ is a harsh and almost cruel word to use when talking about yourself postpartum, but that’s the language I’ve been using. I wanted to know that others didn’t think having kids ‘ruined’ my body, because I’ve always felt my body was my only value. Now, after two kids, if I still truly believed that, I would currently see myself as worthless. Don’t worry I don’t, I’ve grown out of that mentality. But I do still worry that as a mum, I’m not doing enough of the right things to raise little humans to become the best versions of themselves. 

Putting my finger on the pulse of what others thought of how we’re doing, judging by appearance alone, achieved little to no real insight. But nonetheless I was still wagging my finger around, trying to gauge whether people were judging me as a mum and my kids in a positive or negative light. Now, realising they weren’t even looking at all should be a weight lifted, but my ego started screaming from the pain of neglect. I used to be valued for the things that I could do at work, in the gym, with my friends. Now, the one and only thing I do, mothering, doesn’t even register with anyone and has barely made me an extra, walking around the background of everyone else’s story. 

Reality check 

Now it’s time to get a grip. Both on reality and my ego. Just because the majority of people I see in public don’t acknowledge me, doesn’t mean I’m being ignored. People simply have a lot of other shit in their lives to worry about. Exactly what I’m crying about, being an extra in the background and barely noticeable, countless others play that exact role in my life on a daily basis. And I don’t think any less of them for it, I’m just not thinking of them at all. Not only am I not a victim, I’m also a perpetrator. 

Yes, being a mum puts me in a different category of society. I automatically become non-threatening, because really, I am. I just want to go about my business with as little fanfare as possible and have it be an uneventful outing because the alternative is chaos. As much as my ego would like some acknowledgement, I don’t want it at the cost of toddler melt downs and baby teething screams in public arenas. So yea, with this new lens over the power of being invisible, I think I’ll be able to enjoy it a little and maybe, even indulge in it. Because I don’t actually need strangers to validate me as a mum. I know I’m a good mum, not a perfect mum but man, who is? 

So instead of a soap opera dialogue rivaling a Korean Drama storyline running through my mind every time I’m out, maybe now I’ll have the balls to have a cheeky coffee while the kids sleep in the pram and not worry about what anyone else is thinking - because lets face it, they’re not.