Ali Young - Work. Mama. Life.

As soon as she was placed on my chest, I felt appreciation for her safe arrival. I felt an element of love, but I didn't feel that overwhelming, life-changing ‘kapow’ moment that everyone told me I would. I had super protective instincts around my child, yet I didn't feel the love-bubble gush I expected. This alone was enough to start my mum-guilt journey. At the time, I didn't realise I didn't have it, but on consideration, my love grew and grew rather than rushing in.

Over the next couple of weeks, we packed up our house in Perth so we could rent it out when we repatriated overseas again, navigated new parenthood, had both sets of parents visit from interstate, celebrated Christmas and then flew back to Malaysia with a 20-day-old child. It felt ‘normal’ at the time, but on reflection it was pretty bloody crazy.

No wonder I felt a little lost.

To top it off, I had all my people trying to help me with advice on what they perceived was or wasn't working with my newborn.

Have you heard these ones?

Why is she feeding so much?

Why is feeding taking so long?

Why is she so small?

You should be doing …

You shouldn't be doing …

You do this with a nappy …

You do this other thing with a dummy …

You wrap her this or that way …

I was thrust into discovering that my own personal, good-enough mother concept was based on external elements of the newborn phase like sleep, poo, feeding and settledness. And I pretty much felt like a bit of a failure because, while for years I'd been able to support mothers with the health of their kids, my own child didn't fit the perfect ‘box’ of what a ‘good’ baby does. This common societal measure of a good mother being reliant upon how her child shows up for certain benchmarks really fuelled my unhappiness at the time.

Moving back to Malaysia was isolating. Comparatively, I imagine it was a little like birthing during lockdown and remaining home all the time, with minimal community connection and support being offered. I haven't had to live through significant lockdown in Australia, but in conversation and while supporting women who have, it feels like I had the same brain-based trauma response they experienced. I began doing the things that I thought good mothers did. I exercised, I cooked, I responded to my child as she needed and I ‘wifed’ like a champion.

And yet, I felt like I wasn't a good mother because my daughter thought sleep was for the weak. There wasn't a sleep book I didn't read, there wasn't a friend I didn't lean into, there wasn't advice I didn't think to add to my daily ‘should-do’. But not much helped. Ironically.

And yet, here I am, writing a book on supporting mums to choose their own adventure. I am so thankful for the crazy early introduction to motherhood, as it certainly shaped my journey, my learnings and my passion for mums.

While my support systems were there, I was creating stress for myself and within my family because I was striving to fill a ‘perfect child and perfect mother’ ideology. It wasn't a conscious thing. I just did it because that's what I thought I was supposed to do. I know I'm not alone here. It's well researched. It's the intensive mothering ideology that we will explore as we move through this book, and how it impacts the stress load of mothering. This ideology is creating a cycle of burned-out working mums trying to do and be all to everyone, except for themselves. A bit more on that soon.

Moving through this as an individual, and reflecting on it over the years since my first child was born, highlights to me how, even as a highly knowledgeable mother, this matrescence period can really impact us, our future health and the lens through which we view motherhood.

As a mum, the stress load of life external to our ‘self’, and internal within our specific environment can impact us so innately that it alters our health, our vitality, our zest and, ultimately, our mothering. The amazing support systems we are gifted by our Western culture can be lifechanging. They can literally turn a really crappy, depressive and anxious experience into something joyful and vital.

The support systems offered to mothers, as reported anecdotally in my practice, have at times been overwhelming, and ‘too much’. As mums have told me, there can be conflicting advice, given within short time frames, that can raise anxiety levels. And when mothers look externally to find all of the answers, it can also be a hugely overwhelming experience. Instead, giving ourselves permission to listen within, to listen to our calm and that inner voice, can allow us to support ourselves in a way that suits us.

The level of stress that comes from a lack of our own knowledge and because we continually have to source information from external sources can be the first step towards burnout in my experience. When we then add in mum-guilt and returning to work, it's a recipe for disaster.

Unsurprisingly, my daughter Matilda one day began to sleep, and we then decided to jump on the child number two rollercoaster. I mean, of course we did, ha ha. This journey was completely different and I often reflect on my second birth as being my healing delivery. No intervention, the instant love was there and the shift to a family with two children was a wholly different experience.

And while this was a healing birth, it didn't mean that I didn't get stressed … that I didn't search outside of me for answers on how things were going and what I should be doing. It just meant I began with a little bit of a head start on the time before.

I viewed my second birth as a ‘healing birth’, making up for the first one. Did you do that too?

Learning to listen to my gut instinct took time and patience. The first time it was about deciding not to use controlled crying. Do you listen to your gut instinct?

The burnout in my world didn't happen until well after the newborn years. I had returned to work, opened a practice, traversed difficulty navigating a ‘normal life’ back in Australia … and some familial stress was thrown in for good measure.

It was a recipe for burnout. It kinda crept up on me, and had to yell at me to really get my attention. It actually happened prior to COVID, and it just kinda got a kick along and continued when that whole debacle happened.

Lockdown life, particularly in Australia, is a recipe for neurological burnout. Healing from it, and learning how to regain my joy, fun, vitality and health was amazing. And this journey from burnout to vitality is what this book is all about.

Each foray into motherhood comes with its own challenges and wins. It presents opportunities for growth and expansion, discovery and a sense of awakening and reflection for yourself. This reflection on my own journey, the re-introduction of mountains of neurological reading and information about motherhood, the child–mother relationship, how our brains function, and the impact of stress, burnout and a COVID-impacted society on our health and our ‘self’ led me down the rabbit hole of a thriving motherhood.

I can't wait to explore this with you.

How the stories we tell ourselves can make or break our experience!

I remember when I was a first-time mum, I felt the weight of expectation on my shoulders hard. I was in a foreign country with a three week old, an apartment, no car and a husband at work all day. In my mind, I was expected to keep the baby alive, to keep everything clean, to make nourishing food. I mean, man! How about you?