Six Months Of Motherhood. (6 Things I've Learned That I Really Didn't Know Before)

Today marks 6 months of Jude. Six months of our family growing, of becoming parents, of motherhood, and of a dream come true.

While so much of this journey I imagined for a really long time, there are things I didn't know about, changes in myself I wasn't expecting, and new ways of living that we've naturally adapted to.

Before I became a mum, I thought I saw other mothers. I knew they were up at night feeding, I knew they were tired, I knew they were experiencing new things and becoming new people.

I knew, but I didn't know.

I didn't know that when the world went to sleep at night, when the streets were quiet, mums were feeding, rocking and singing to their babies to give them the tiniest bit of comfort through a struggle they can't comprehend or communicate.

I didn't know that when women become mothers, they don't just have a new baby to take care of, they are learning about their whole new identity as they become new people themselves, and often they are supporting their partner through that transition as well.

I didn't know that when women have C-sections, they go through seven layers of tissue that may never fully recover, and just one hour after surgery they'd be holding their babies, learning to feed and take care of them, all while their body heals from the biggest trauma it will likely ever go through.

I didn't know just how much mums carry, and just how casual every single mother that came before me had been about the process.

Because it's actually kind of a big deal.

And while I know it's brushed off because "every mother goes through it," I don't think it should be. I think every mother deserves the time and space to process becoming this new person, and raising this tiny stranger they fell in love with at first sight.

There are a million things I've learned in motherhood, so here are 6 things I've learned in the last 6 months that I really didn't know before.

1. I became a whole new person the day he was born.

They talk about the baby being born, but nobody really tells you that a mother is born in that exact same moment too. There's a word for it, matrescence, the messy, beautiful becoming of a new version of yourself. I didn't just gain Jude, I lost and found and rebuilt myself.
I was no longer Ashlie Lisanne Bramwell, wild and free world traveller, I finally felt like Ashlie Coleman, wife, mother and fierce protector of my family, with a whole new fire for life and everything I hold dear. My priorities, my body, my heart, my values, my wants and needs, the way I see the world, the way I show up in relationships, my boundaries, all of it shifted. Six months in and I'm still meeting this new Ashlie, and I've learned to be patient with her while she finds her feet. She’s actually a version of me I love more than ever, and she’s taught me to love deeply all the versions of me that came before this one, because they were all leading us here.

2. The love is bigger, more wonderful and more terrifying than I ever imagined.

I knew I'd love him. I didn't know it would be this feral, all-consuming, lie-awake-checking-he's-breathing kind of love. A love that makes me feel awful for the way I treated my own mother with the casual disregard for my own safety in my teens and twenties, and understanding her incessant nagging so much more deeply now. Nobody warns you that the flip side of loving something this much is the fear of anything happening to it. I've had to learn to hold both, the overwhelming joy and the anxiety that comes with it, and to be gentle with myself on the nights the worry wins. Loving this hard is a privilege, even when it's heavy. And for me, the anxiety has been so real and shone a light on the deeper anxieties I was able to ignore when it was just me I had to worry about. I sought help and I’m proud of myself for it.

3. I can't do it all alone, and I was never meant to.

As I’ve said before, I'm the queen of cracking on. But these six months have taught me that needing people isn't weakness, it's a basic survival need that is biologically wired in to us. People need people. Mothers need mothers. Whether it's asking Brandon to come home simply because my nervous system needed him, or the mum friends and neighbours who've become my village so far from home, I've learned to let myself be held. The mums who came before us made it look effortless and solo, but the truth is, we were always meant to do this together. In that, I decided to be the kind of mum other mums can lean on when they are struggling, and I’ve found the mums around me do the same. It’s a quiet, mutual respect for this chaotic journey we’re all on, in our own way, but together.

4. I know my baby better than anyone, and I've learned to trust that.

One of the biggest shifts these six months has been learning to trust myself. Not the internet, not the well-meaning advice, not the rigid "shoulds," but my own gut. I've never felt the need to rush Jude or compare him to anyone else, because I've learned to read him, to follow his lead and let him unfold at exactly his own pace. That quiet confidence, the deep knowing that I'm the expert on this little boy, is something I didn't have on day one, and now I'd protect it fiercely. Because people will always come at you with a “is your baby doing this yet?” or “I didn’t do it that way”, and sometimes it comes from a space of love, sometimes it’s judgement, sometimes it’s plain old ignorance, but every time is a choice, and not one I’m prepared to opt in to. Jude is on his own timeline and I’m just here to make sure he’s fed, safe and knows he’s loved.

5. Rest is not a badge you earn by running yourself into the ground.

This one is easier said than done because by my own admission, I’ve been known to wear my exhaustion like a badge of honour, like resting is not allowed because there’s always something to do, and if there isn’t, you can bet I will find something to suddenly become urgent. I’m working on it. Being a mum is teaching me that rest is maintenance, not a reward, and that a fed, loved baby and a mum who's still standing is a win, even if nothing else got done. Lowering the bar hasn't made me less of a mother. If anything, it's made me a more present one. And having a baby has challenged my type A ass more than ever.

6. There is no perfect way, and "good enough" really is good enough.

I've made everything from scratch and I've reached for the pouch. I've had the magical days and the ones I white-knuckled through. And I've learned that there is no gold star, get it all right version of motherhood waiting for me if I just try hard enough. My baby doesn't need perfect. He needs me, showing up, loving him, doing my best. And my best, imperfect and human as it is, is more than enough. I am the light of his life, his favourite human, the one who makes him smile from ear to ear and his safest place, and that really is enough for me.

Six months in…

Six months ago I became a mum, and I've been becoming one every single day since. It's the hardest, most humbling, most beautiful thing I've ever done, and I have such a deep new respect for every mother who walked this road before me and made it look so casual.

To my Jude, thank you for making me a mum, for choosing me, and for being the dream I waited so long for. And to every mum reading this, whatever stage you're at: you're doing a big, big thing, and you deserve all the grace in the world for it.

Here's to the next six months, and to every mum out there quietly carrying the world. Come celebrate six months of Jude with me over on Instagram. 🤍