Most mothers at one time or another suffer from maternal ‘Impostor Syndrome’

Impostor Syndrome, I’ve learned, is a pretty common occurrence for professional women.

Before I had a name for what I felt throughout my career, I always assumed I lucked into my jobs. That I was going to be found out. That I somehow wasn’t qualified, but charmed my way through all of the interviews.

Sometime around 2012, when I had been working for about five years, I learned that Impostor Syndrome is a very real thing experienced by a lot of people.

It’s a psychological phenomena where someone is convinced they don’t deserve their accomplishments — that they’ve basically tricked others into believing they’re smart.

My Impostor Syndrome wasn’t crippling — not at all. And deep down I knew I was skilled and capable and competent. But I always had this nagging feeling that I was faking it until I made it. That the reason why I advanced professionally was because I got along well with others — and not because of my hard skills.

I feel like a fake less and less these days at work. Maybe that’s maturity or experience.

But it never occurred to me that I’d have this feeling as a mother — or that it would last so long.

This weekend will be my second Mother’s Day and my fourth as a stepmother. So why do I still feel like a mom fraud?

Although I know that I’m a good and present, loving and hard-working mother, sometimes I still don’t feel like “a mom.” Saying the words “my son” often doesn’t seem quite real. Some part of me still feels removed. Like I’m watching my son grow up and hit his milestones and thrive, and not taking much credit for it.

I still feel like the old me — the outgoing, professional woman whose life is more events and concerts than diapers and playdates. And yet, that’s not true at all. I go to events and concerts, sure. But I’m a mother/stepmother of three. I was Indy’s primary caregiver for 11 months. I birthed him and I care for him and I woke up in the night with him (still do).

I drive to diving and to baseball practice. I go on family vacations. I make lunches and spend my money on kids’ clothing and the social highlight of my month is this weekend’s family camp at Wabamun Lake.

Maybe it’s because I never saw myself as a mother growing up. It took meeting my husband and his sons before I was sure I wanted kids of my own. Maybe it’s because, at the beginning, I deferred to my husband’s parenting knowledge, and to this day — gulp — haven’t read one book about motherhood.

Maybe it’s because I’ve left online mom groups — not because of judgmental vibes or feeling inadequate. But because I didn’t relate to the de facto mom-to-mom banter of harried self-deprecation.

Or maybe it’s because society still puts an insane amount of pressure on moms to behave a certain way and be a certain way. And I don’t buy into that. So I’m caught between what I’m doing as a mother, and all of the messaging of what “real motherhood” is.

Only in the last few decades have women been encouraged to be anything but stay-at-home nurturers. And it will take a few more to undo what centuries of expectations have done to our collective psyche. It might take more than 18 months to shift my perspective after more than 30 years of not being anybody’s mother.

When it comes to motherhood, we’re all probably faking it until we make it. No book will prepare you for the specific challenges in your specific household.

This is what I remind myself when I feel like I don’t deserve the credit for how well my baby boy is doing. My kind of motherhood is working. I’m doing all the stuff. My baby isn’t thriving while I watch from the sidelines. I’m a big part of why he’s thriving. I’m one of two pillars in his life. We’re doing it.

So, I’ll say to all of the mothers what I tell myself when I feel like a fake: Be the mother you want to be. You’re doing it. And you’re doing a freaking great job.

Happy Mother’s Day.