I'm Not Your Mama And How Would You Know If I've 'Got This'?

Why "You Got This, Mama!" sucks

I can say with confidence a decade-plus into a career as a professional writer that “You got this, mama” is one of the most annoying sentences in the English language.

Before you get mad at me for being a grouch about people just trying to be nice, let me explain.

“You got this, mama!” is a phrase I started seeing a lot on pregnancy message boards before I gave birth. It was repeated so often it almost felt like a cheer for the sorority of motherhood, a perky catch-all response to any and every problem an expecting or new mother could face. Its use has continued in real life. I’ve seen it in parenting guides. Friends commenting on friends’ Facebook posts. I’ve overheard it spoken and cringed accordingly.

So sick you can’t get out of bed and your husband is whining about you not having sex with him enough? You got this, mama!

Got some scary results from your NIPT test and you’re worried about amniocentesis? You got this mama!

Medical trauma in your past has made you terrified of giving birth? You got this, mama!

New baby crying nonstop and your milk just came in and you’re experiencing the postpartum hormone crash and your in-laws won’t leave you alone and you’re bleeding nonstop out of your vagina and you want to die? You got this, mama!

Your baby cries for hours when you drop him off at daycare, a place he must go because it’s the only place within a half hour drive that had any spots available for babies in time for you to return to work at your stupid job that doesn’t give you enough maternity leave? You got this, mama!!!

You Got This, Mama sucks, actually. Every mother is more than just a mother. I’m not “mama.” I’m a fully-realized sentient human being confronting enormous challenges that come along with the role of “mother.” There are much bigger problems in the world than a cutesy little phrase, but “You got this, mama!” is one of a million little ways we diminish the humanity of women once they give birth.

I didn’t take my husband’s name when I got married. My name is important to my career. My husband’s last name is twelve letters long, mine is four, and, over the course of forty-five-odd years of marriage (I plan to die at age 83), think about how much time I’d lose on signatures alone. Taking a man’s last name when I married would have put me at odds with the way I’d chosen to live out my own feminist principles (no judgement on people who choose a different path; this is just the one I’ve chosen for myself). Most importantly, I hate paperwork, and everyone I know who has changed their name has said all the paperwork was a bit of a pain in the ass.

But there’s one name change that I simply didn’t have any input on. The second I had a baby, I became “mom."

To be clear, I was always expecting my child to call me “mom,” or even “mommy” or “mama.” I wasn’t necessarily expecting it from so many people who I did not personally give birth to.

My grandparents called each other “Mom” and “Dad,” which may have been a practical decision since they had six kids. But they called each other “mom” and “dad” long after their youngest had grown and flown. I didn’t even know my grandpa’s real first name was “Leonard” until a few years before his death.

My parents, too, would sometimes call each other Mom and Dad. Parents of friends would do the same thing. Because of this, I found the practice old fashioned, a boomer relic that I didn’t feel the need to carry forward in my own life. If I became “Mom,” I’d be Erin and a mother. Not just “Mom.”

But it wasn’t my decision-- silly me. It started at the hospital, before the epidural even wore off. “How’s she eating, mom?” “Mom can come over here.” “I need you to sign here, mom.”

I understand why people who deal with countless families over the course of their professional lives are served by “Mom” and “Dad.” It saves them from having to remember people’s first names and is much warmer than calling somebody “Mrs” or “Ms” Lastname. It also saves them from the risky guesswork around marital status and titles, which can be a bit of an etiquette minefield.

I can’t begrudge professionals for utilizing a social shortcut that works for them. But “You got this, mama!” No. Please no.

“You got this, mama!” is a response issued seemingly automatically to a mother talking about having a difficult time, being afraid, being apprehensive. It probably originated as an attempt to cheer people up but has turned into a mindless platitude that people spout as a way to disengage without actually disengaging.

Kind of like when a person says “Have a nice weekend!” End of conversation.

You got this, mama! Bye! I'm done listening to your problems now!

At the same time, it implies that now that she’s a mama– or about to be one– she’s “got this.” No matter what “this” is, she will figure out a way to “get” it, because that’s what mothers do: figure out a way to survive, even against impossible odds and while lacking vital support. The subtext of “You got this, mama!” is “Eh, you’ll figure it out.”

Another thing that bothers me about the phrase “you got this, mama” is: how do you know? Not every problem has a happy resolution, especially those that occur in concert with pregnancy, birth, and motherhood. In any mother’s life, some problems will end in triumph, others will merely end in survival. And some problems will become wounds, which will turn into scars. Sorry, mama!

Maybe most mothers will figure things out, Most of the things that I worked myself into a frenzy over during pregnancy and the first near-year of my daughter’s life turned out to be driven in part by a brain intent on catastrophizing. But never once did “you got this, mama” give me the pick-me-up that its wielder might have intended. I found myself feeling frustrated and lonely after being told that I "got this." At best, it was as harmless yet useless as a happy birthday postcard from my dentist’s office.

As with many cliches that start well-intentioned and turn irksome through thoughtless repetition, perhaps the better way to communicate encouragement to mothers is to listen and engage with them as human beings, to validate their feelings and fears and assure them that you’re there for them as a friend and support. But, you know, individualize it. A greeting card-ready slogan won’t cut it, even if you tack a cutesy nickname on at the end.

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