Are mothers competitive or just yearning for validation?

I’ll start with this: I love women. I love how complex we are. We’re emotionally dynamic, multifaceted, and (if I may say so myself) pretty damn smart.

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But while we are often fabulous at taking care of each other, we also tend to pit ourselves against other women – particularly other mothers. 

The layers to this are interesting. I’ve observed that it isn’t so much about ‘Who is the best?” as it is ‘Who is doing it the toughest?’

There’s a subtle battle of:

• Who had the longest labour?
• Who had the most painful labour?
• Who has the worst sleeper?
• Who is the most tired?

We all so desperately want each other to be happy, however, there also seems to be an unspoken level of competition. 

Does it all boil down to who deserves the most empathy, or who deserves the biggest glass of wine at 5 o’clock? 

Are we self-deprecating in an effort to seem less boastful when things are going well? 

Do we find the one thing we’re struggling with and inflate its impact to seem more ‘likeable’? In other words, are we overcompensating in an attempt to appear humble? 

I’m not completely sure myself. But this idea of competitiveness came to my attention when I became a mum of two.

My first encounter with the mum race

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When my second son was 3 or 4 weeks old, we noticed he never settled when lying on his back. 

He would uncomfortably writhe when he wasn’t upright and pull his legs into his chest more often than not. He grimaced in total discomfort with a firm, tight and bloated belly.

For the first 4 months of his life, he’d only sleep in 45-60 minute increments, all night long. But he never cried. Ever. 

‘Silent colic’ I was told. And the cure? Time. When he reached 4 or 5 months old, his gut would mature and he’d slowly start to digest food more efficiently and comfortably. 

My heart would break every time I saw him twist and turn with evident trapped wind. I’d cry with guilt. Why couldn’t I help him?

To help myself cope, I would talk to other mums. Any mum around me. Mothers at coffee shops, school drop off, playdates, the park. I was trying to gauge their experience to see if I could absorb any tips they may have on offer. 

Some were so empathetic and kind. They generously shared their story and reassured me that it would get easier.

Others were suss. They either dismissed my experience, questioned it, or compared it to their own. 

‘But colic is defined by uncontrollable crying? And he doesn’t cry? So…”

‘Perhaps you need to burp him more.’

“I’d kill for silent colic. At least he doesn’t screech the house down like what I dealt with.” 

‘He sounds like a classic newborn. I wouldn’t worry so much.’ 

Some reactions baffled me. Did they not believe me? Were they jaded because their colic experience was ‘worse’? 

I wasn’t asking anyone for anything (other than their ears) so I couldn’t quite figure out the scepticism and pervasive intrigue. 

On a few occasions, I even filmed my son’s discomfort throughout the night to visually proveI I wasn’t exaggerating my experience. But then I’d pause and think, ‘What the hell am I doing? It truly doesn’t matter what others think. This is my experience and it does not need to be validated by anyone else.‘

I won’t sugarcoat it … some of the mums I spoke to really got me really down. I second-guessed myself and let the self-doubt and fatigue whittle me down into a shell. 

Are they right? Am I weak? Should I be venting less and just get on with it while suffering in silence? Is this just what parenthood is?

The answer to all of that is no.

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Why are we like this?

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I think the competitive agenda of ‘Who is doing it tougher?’ is a subconscious and outward release of frustration, fatigue and quite simply, depletion. 

Women are not deliberately trying to pull each other down, minimise each other’s experiences, or position themselves as more deserving of empathy. 

I’d say what’s happening is that mothers (and parents alike) are all desperately trying to shift their parenthood exhaustion and lack of affirmation at a societal level. 

And sometimes, that means aiming in the wrong direction.

Perhaps it comes down to parents needing more support from their community; an acknowledgment of their deepest struggles.

It feels like mothers need to wear their hardest days as a badge of honour and use it for protection.

We’re territorial about the past and present hardships in parenthood because, especially during the early days, we’re all so eager to squeeze every ounce of validation and self-worth from wherever we can. 

Parenting is hard. It can leave us feeling alone and on the ‘outside’ of life. 

So maybe it isn’t mums competing for the violins, but rather signalling that they’d like to be seen and not forgotten.

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Final thoughts

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Women, mothers, and parents in general are starving to reassure themselves of their value a lot of the time. 

When we introduce children into our lives, we often forfeit opportunities that award validation: work, promotions, career pivots, travels, and cultural explorations. 

The next time you’re in a conversation that feels more like playing a game of ‘Who has had the harder day?’, remember that parenthood is not a race to ‘get it right.’ 

It’s a team existence. It’s a village. Surrender the urge to compete and instead make sure your fellow parent leaves that conversation feeling seen, heard, remembered and respected. The way you want to feel. 

Kindness is never a bad idea.