After my kids were old enough to question my decisions, but before they were quite ready to challenge my answers, I had a pat response to any inquiry they made about the limits of my rule-making authority: “God made me the mom for a reason.” 

Gutsy, right? Equating my refusal to stop at Dunkin Donuts with an edict from the Almighty? 

At the time I thought that kind of divine backup was necessary to give my kids the bedrock confidence in me as a parent that they needed to feel safe and secure. Insofar as that goes, it worked. My kids were absolutely certain that I knew the answer to every question, that I had an unerring sense of what was best for them and our family, that my moral compass was pristine and my ability to keep them safe and healthy, nearly unlimited.

While they were young, at least, my kids had unshakeable belief in me. The problem was I didn’t. Nearly every decision we made was tainted by some level of anxiety. As the designated worrier in the family, most of that anxiety landed on me. I worried about which schools and what sports and how much sugar and how little sleep. I worried that I wasn’t doing enough. And that I was doing too much. In other words, I felt incredible pressure to be the perfect mom.

A Recent Study Shows that Even as the Pandemic Cools, Moms are Feeling Tremendous Anxiety

I was reminded of this perfection-fueled period of my life recently when I read the results of an October 2022 Study conducted by Everyday Health Group which revealed that moms across the country are feeling tremendous anxiety and burnout. The study questioned women aged 18-54 (Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z moms) who were pregnant or had at least one child under the age of eight. It found that a whopping 68% of moms are struggling with anxiety, 35% of them describing their anxiety as moderate or severe. 

Financial issues appear to be the biggest concern. But moms are also extremely worried about their children’s developmental progress, including ensuring they meet milestones and succeed in school (68%). They also feel pressure to spend more time at home to support and guide their children both developmentally and emotionally (67%).

This level of anxiety is comparable to or possibly even greater than the intense pressure and stress moms felt at the outset of the pandemic, suggesting that while COVID-19 may be fading to a manageable level, the stress it spawned shows no sign of doing the same. 

To some degree, this unprecedented anxiety makes sense. We’ve all been through an unprecedented time, with more loss and trauma than we’ve seen in generations. Our children experienced it first hand, and many parents are seeing more challenging behaviors and developmental and educational delays as a result. It’s easy to understand why parents are having such a hard time peeling back their fear, but it’s also no leap to suggest that the shroud of anxiety over top these already legitimate and formidable problems only makes matters that much worse for everyone.

Obviously, we can’t have this. 

Most Moms Said They did not have a “Village” to Support Them

I thought two of the study’s findings, while not good, may at least offer something of an action plan not only for struggling moms but also for those of us who want to help. The first rests on the ancient African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child.” It’s a simple statement of truth: no one person, no one family, can raise a child alone. We all need the help of the village. 

Well, it looks like we need a lot more villages. With extended family much less likely to live nearby than ever before, the vast majority of moms – 75% – say they don’t get enough support from family and friends. And 51% said that, beyond themselves and their partners, they have no “village” at all to lean on for help raising their children.  

Over the next several weeks and months, I plan to research and give some thought to how I and mine built our villages back in the day. I’ll share what I come up with in the hope that it will be helpful.

And Many Feel the Burden is on Them to be “Perfect Parents”

For the moment, though, I’d like to address a second point made in the study, one we can start chipping away at right here and now: the intense pressure moms are feeling to be “perfect parents.” The study revealed that moms were feeling this across the board, but Gen Z moms – the youngest in the study – were striving the most to meet parenting ideals, and suffering from it the most; 79% reported feeling anxiety and 45% identified that anxiety as moderate to severe. 

Maybe this comes from the ramped-up, impossible expectations piled onto moms during the pandemic. Maybe it comes from a lack of perspective bred of social isolation. Maybe it’s a byproduct of relationships more rooted in social media – with its filters and curated photos of laughing, perfect looking people – than in actual time spent with other real-life moms. But I have a suspicion that it’s the lack of a village that breathes life into this idea of the “perfect mom.”

So, if you’re a mom struggling with anxiety over your kids and their behavior and their education and their emotional development, if you sometimes hear the siren call of the “perfect mom” and bury your head in your hands in despair at how far away she seems, I’d like to speak directly to you: the only thing holding you back from being the “perfect” mom is the belief that, somewhere out there, there is one. 

I Get Wanting to be Perfect . . .

I’ve always really liked knowing how well I’m doing. Before that first positive pregnancy test, pretty much every endeavor I’d undertaken had offered me (1) some sort of objective criteria to measure myself against and (2) lots of feedback to let me know how I was doing. In school, it was teachers and tests, report cards and GPAs. Graduation came with diplomas and licenses and associations to show the world, and remind me of, my accomplishments. At work, there were orientations and official procedures, performance reviews and bonuses. And there were mentors, experienced professionals who had my back, who gave me answers and guidance and support, who could answer my questions and point me in the right direction. The goal was always to get as close to perfect as possible.

But after bringing a new little life into the world, after falling so ridiculously head-over-heels in love with that little creature that I was absolutely terrified of being anything less than the mom he or she deserved, what did I get? Diapers and diddly-squat. 

Well, strictly speaking, that’s not true. I did receive a nearly universal chorus assuring me that being a mom is the most important and joyful job I could ever have. So, like, don’t mess it up and make sure you look happy while you’re doing it. 

That and diddly-squat.

But When it Comes to Parenting, the Magic’s in the Mistakes.

Given the incredible stakes and the infinitesimal guidance, I am inclined to forgive my younger self for latching onto the only standard bearer in sight: the mythical perfect mom. The one who created Norman Rockwell holidays and Martha Stewart meals, kept a Better Homes and Gardens-worthy home and garden, a fully stocked craft closet and complete mastery of third grade math and the serene disposition to tap either at any time, and had inexhaustible energy and the patience of a saint. Everything my perfect little baby deserved. 

Long story short: after a protracted battle with reality, my “perfect mom” slipped on a four-day old splotch of spaghetti sauce on the kitchen floor, landed in a three-foot high pile of dirty laundry and was never heard from again. 

Just as well. In her absence, I seriously floundered. I was late for doctors’ appointments and occasionally showed up with the wrong child. I sometimes forgot to pick someone up. I am completely inept at even remedial math and had to send the kids crawling back to their teachers for help with anything they didn’t understand. The house was a mess and the kids had to help put things back in order. I got overwhelmed and exhausted and sometimes didn’t even do bedtime books so I could sit alone in the family room and and be where my kids were not. I lost my temper – my own personal demon – way too often and really had to commit myself to doing better. I realized some of my parenting decisions were wrong and had to reconsider and course correct. I came up short and dropped the ball and owed apologies and favors. And all these mess ups and fixups happened right in front of my kids.

Which turned out to be perfect. Because when my kids ended up dropping balls and having to course correct and make apologies of their own, they weren’t undone. They were prepared.

If I were in your village, and knew you were feeling anxious about whether you were good enough as a mom, or whether you were making the best decisions for your kids, or whether you would be up to whatever challenges might come down the pike, I would invite you over for a nice cup of tea. If you wanted, I would sit with you on the porch. I would listen to all of your worries, all the mistakes you think you made and the failings you think you have and I would remind you of one simple truth: God made you the mom for a reason. And she just doesn’t screw up things like that.