The Myth of the Good Mum: Why You Don’t Need to Be a Superhero to Be Enough
There’s a quote I came across recently that stopped me in my tracks:
“Your best is what you can do while respecting your mental and physical health — not what you can accomplish by disregarding them.”
It hit like a wave… gentle, but strong.
Because for so long, I believed that my “best” meant doing it all. Smiling through it. Carrying everyone. Meeting every need. Keeping the house running. Being available, responsive, organised, loving… all the time.
And I know I’m not the only one.
So many of the mothers I work with - especially those raising neurodivergent or disabled children - carry this immense, invisible load. We’ve internalised the belief that if we’re struggling, it must be us. That we’re not good enough, patient enough, strong enough.
But that’s the myth talking… not the truth.
Where the “Good Mum” Myth Began
The “good mother” we grew up seeing was quiet and consistent.
She was loving, selfless, endlessly patient.
She didn’t shout. She didn’t rest. She didn’t need.
Even if our own mothers didn’t fit that image, society handed it to us - through films, magazines, social media, and cultural scripts that glorify the self-sacrificing woman.
Dr Sophie Brock, a sociologist who studies motherhood, calls this The Good Mother Ideology: a set of unwritten rules that tell us what makes a “good” mum. The problem? These rules are impossible to live up to, yet we’re still judged by them. We even judge ourselves by them.
And when life gets hard - when a diagnosis comes, or our children need more than the system provides - we don’t think, This is too much. We think, I should be better at this.
That’s how the myth works: it makes systemic problems feel personal.
When Supermum Becomes Self-Destructive
Trying to be Supermum is a quiet kind of burnout - the kind that sneaks up on you while you’re still smiling at the school gates.
Still packing lunches. Still coordinating therapies. Still pretending you’re fine.
But underneath, you’re disappearing.
For mothers of neurodivergent or disabled children, this pressure is multiplied.
We’re not just mothers; we become advocates, therapists, coordinators, schedulers, translators. We do the work of entire systems… often without recognition or rest.
Dr Aditi Nerurkar reminds us,
“Stress is not a badge of honour. It’s a warning light.”
Yet in motherhood, especially in complex parenting, stress is worn like a badge.
We bond over our exhaustion, compare our chaos, and call it normal.
But it’s not normal.
It’s survival.
Even when you’re doing everything “right”, your child might still struggle. Because this isn’t about perfection. It’s about reality. And real love doesn’t require your exhaustion. It requires your presence.
And presence isn’t possible when your tank is empty.
Who Benefits from the Myth?
If the “good mum” ideal is so harmful… why does it persist?
Because it benefits the systems that rely on our unpaid, unseen labour.
When mothers believe they must do it all without complaint, we’re less likely to challenge underfunded services or unfair expectations.
Governments benefit when we absorb the fallout of austerity.
Health and education systems benefit when we coordinate care.
And patriarchal structures benefit when we quietly carry the domestic and emotional load.
As sociologist Arlie Hochschild described, women often work a “second shift” - a full day of care after their paid work ends. For mothers of high-needs children, it’s more like a third, fourth, and fifth.
And capitalism? It thrives on our self-doubt.
Because when we feel not-enough, we buy solutions: the planner, the therapy toy, the supplement, the self-help book.
As Brené Brown says,
“When perfectionism is driving, shame is always riding shotgun.”
And shame is profitable.
This isn’t about blame… it’s about clarity.
Because once we see how the myth keeps us small and silent, we can stop turning that frustration inward and start using it as fuel for change.
You are not broken.
The expectations placed on you are.
Redefining What It Means to Be “Good Enough”
If perfection is the problem, then enoughness is the antidote.
Donald Winnicott’s concept of the good enough mother reminds us that our children don’t need flawless caregivers… they need attuned, responsive, human ones. Perfection actually blocks growth, because it doesn’t leave space for learning, repair, or resilience.
Being “good enough” means showing up - not perfectly, but truthfully.
Zoe Blaskey of Motherkind puts it beautifully:
“You’re not failing. You’re just trying to mother in a culture that doesn’t support mothers.”
Let that sink in.
What if being a good mum wasn’t about doing it all, but about doing what matters - with honesty, rest, and self-respect?
What if we measured success by connection, not control?
By presence, not productivity?
By being real, not being perfect?
Three Reframes for When You Feel Like You’re Not Enough
“I am not required to set myself on fire to keep everyone else warm.”
Love doesn’t require martyrdom. You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to need.“Rest is part of resilience, not a break from it.”
Rest isn’t indulgent. It’s essential. Every pause teaches your body safety.“Being a good mum includes being good to myself.”
Your child doesn’t need a superhero. They need a grounded, gentle human who knows how to care for herself too.
Reflection Prompt
Sometime this week - maybe after bedtime or during a quiet moment - ask yourself:
What version of motherhood have I been trying to live up to?
What has it cost me?
What would change if I truly believed I was already enough?
Let those answers come softly.
Let them guide you home to yourself.
You were never meant to be a superhero.
You were meant to be human - real, feeling, imperfect, whole.
And that version of you… the one who knows her limits, who rests when needed, who shows up imperfectly but wholeheartedly - is more than enough.
So this week, lay down the cape.
Pause before you power through.
And remind yourself:
You do not have to do it all to be a good mum.
You just have to be you.
Listen to the full episode:
Next step
If this story resonates, you might find my free guide The First 30 Days especially grounding — a gentle companion for those early weeks after diagnosis. Download it here →
