From Clinic to Home: What I’ve Learned From Helping 1,000+ Moms
- Samantha Pieterse
- Oct 28
- 6 min read
There’s a certain sound I’ve come to know well. The soft click of a car seat handle, the shuffle of a nappy bag, and the deep breath a mom takes just before she walks through my clinic door. It’s the sound of someone who’s holding it all together… and also not quite.
In the years I’ve run Mums & Bums Clinic in Centurion, I’ve seen over a thousand moms cross that doorway. Some smiling, some teary, some half-dressed in baby spit-up and bravery. They all have different stories, but the same questions circle their hearts: Am I doing okay? Is this normal? Will it get easier?
And after more than a thousand moms, I’ve learned that those questions deserve gentler answers than Google usually gives.
Every Mother’s Story Is Different, But The Feelings Are Universal
I’ve met first-time moms in Centurion who arrive straight from the hospital, still walking carefully and clutching a folder of discharge notes. I’ve met grandmothers raising their grandchildren with both fierce love and quiet exhaustion. And I’ve met working moms who dash in between meetings, laptop in hand, breast pump in the car.
Different journeys, same heartbeat.
Behind every baby milestone chart is a woman fighting something invisible. Guilt about not loving every moment, fear that she’s missing something important, or the loneliness of being surrounded by people but not seen.
In these clinic moments, when a mom sighs and says, “I thought I’d be happier by now,” I see how motherhood is less about doing everything right and more about surviving the learning curve without losing yourself.
The Truth About Birth Plans and Real Life
I love a good plan. And so do many of my moms. Birth plans printed, laminated, colour-coded, everything from music playlists to preferred snacks.
Then labour happens.
And labour doesn’t read your plan.
I’ve watched many of the moms who attended my antenatal class in Centurion and prepared for months suddenly face an emergency C-section. Others who dreamed of an intervention-free birth end up with forceps or a vacuum. I’ve seen birth plans fade away, and still, every time, a baby arrives and life starts anyway.
Here’s what I tell my antenatal class parents: your birth plan is a map, not a contract. Sometimes you take the scenic route, sometimes the 4x4 path. What matters is that you give yourself permission to grieve the parts that didn't go as you'd hoped.
No Instagram birth story ever captures that moment of shock when you realise nothing went as planned, but you did it anyway.
The Patterns I See Most Often (And What They’ve Taught Me)
After years in a clinic, some stories repeat themselves. Not because you’re not unique, but because the emotional patterns of early parenthood are deeply human.
1. The mom who thinks she’s failing, but isn’t.
She’s the one who apologises before every sentence: “Sorry, I’m such a mess.” “Sorry, I’m crying, I don't know why.” Usually, her baby is thriving. She just needs permission to stop comparing herself to the impossible standard she sees online.
2. The partner who wants to help but doesn’t know how.
I’ve had many partners sit quietly in appointments, unsure where to start. When I explain that feeding isn’t the only form of support, that making tea, burping the baby, or handling paperwork counts, you can almost see the relief.
3. The baby who teaches everyone patience.
Some babies have reflux, colic, or feeding struggles that test every ounce of calm in a household. They remind us that parenting isn’t about control. It’s about endurance and teamwork.
4. The silent exhaustion.
Postnatal recovery in South Africa is often rushed. Moms are sent home after 2–3 days, expected to heal, feed, and function without much guidance. That’s why I created follow-up visits, so moms don’t just “survive” the fourth trimester. They actually recover.
Each of these patterns is a reminder: parenthood isn’t a test. It’s a season, one that softens and strengthens you in equal measure.
The Power of Asking for Help (and Why It’s a Sign of Strength)
I can always tell when a mom waits too long to ask for help. She arrives anxious, teary, and running on caffeine and guilt. Usually, one consultation earlier could’ve spared her weeks of self-doubt.
Somewhere along the line, we started believing that asking for help means you’re weak. Here’s what I’ve seen: the strongest moms are the ones who ask early, for breastfeeding support, sleep guidance, mental health and postnatal depression care, or even just reassurance.
It’s not indulgent to care for yourself. It’s maintenance. You can’t pour from an empty bottle (even if it’s a Tommee Tippee).
That’s why I always tell my moms: don’t wait for a crisis. Book a check-in when you feel the wobble, not after you’ve hit the floor. Sometimes, one conversation in the clinic can change your whole week.
If you’re feeling unsure or just need a bit of guidance, you’re always welcome to book a one-on-one consultation or join our antenatal classes right here in Centurion.
What I Wish Every Mom Knew
After more than a thousand moms, here are the truths I keep coming back to:
Your worth isn’t measured by how calm your baby is. Some babies cry more. It’s not your fault.
Breastfeeding isn’t “natural” for everyone. It’s a learned skill, for you and your baby, and not an instinct. Sometimes the best feeding choice is the one that keeps both of you sane.
There’s no such thing as doing it all. The laundry can wait. Your mental health can’t.
Sleep training, co-sleeping, puree, baby-led weaning. None of these defines your success. What matters is that your baby feels loved and fed.
Comparison is the thief of joy (and naps).
If I could bottle one thing for every mom, it would be grace. You are learning as you go, and so is everyone else.
From Clinic to Home: My Promise to Every Mom I Meet
There’s a small ritual I notice at the end of most appointments. A mom adjusts her bag, looks at her baby, then looks back at me with a faint smile that says, Okay, maybe I can do this after all.
That’s the best part of my job.
Whether you come for routine baby vaccines, reflux advice, contraception, or just a chat about how you’re really coping, my goal is the same: for you to walk out lighter than when you came in.
Because motherhood isn’t meant to be done alone, and sometimes the smallest bit of guidance can shift everything.
From clinic to home, that’s my promise: warmth and time.
If you’re feeling unsure or just need a bit of guidance, you’re always welcome to book a one-on-one consultation or join our antenatal classes right here in Centurion.
FAQs About Motherhood and Postnatal Care in South Africa
What does a baby clinic in Centurion do?
A baby clinic like Mums & Bums offers vaccinations, growth checks, breastfeeding help, and postnatal care for moms and babies in one supportive space.
When should I book my baby’s first clinic visit?
Most babies come in within the first week after birth for a weight check, feeding support, and guidance on what’s normal in the newborn stage.
What if my birth didn’t go according to plan?
That’s completely okay. Every birth story is unique. A midwife or nurse can help you process your experience and recover physically and emotionally.
Why is postnatal care important for moms?
Postnatal visits help moms heal properly, spot issues like infection or baby blues early, and get trusted advice on feeding, rest, and recovery.
Can I get breastfeeding support at Mums & Bums Clinic?
Yes. We offer one-on-one breastfeeding guidance, latch assessments, and practical tips for expressing milk or combination feeding.
How long does it take to recover after birth?
Most moms start feeling more themselves by 6–8 weeks, but full recovery takes time. Good nutrition and support make all the difference.
What’s the difference between antenatal and postnatal care?
Antenatal care prepares you for birth. Postnatal care supports you after it. Together, they help you and your baby thrive.
Is it normal to feel overwhelmed as a new mom?
Yes, most moms feel a mix of joy, exhaustion, and self-doubt. Talking about it helps more than pretending you’re fine.
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