It was just recently that I was reading Faulkner Fox's Dispatches from a Not-So-Perfect Life: Or How I Learned to Love the House, the Man, the Child, and I found a name for my current affliction—mamaphobia. That's right. I am intensely afraid of mothers and all things motherly. The big problem with my having this irrational fear is that I myself am a mama.

Over two and a half years ago, my mamaphobia officially peaked when Clyde, with the help of the doc snips, made the disconnect and wriggled those first few inches toward his selfhood. From Clyde's earliest weeks when I started attending my first mama group—in an era that Anna Quindlen quite accurately calls the "perfection society" amid the "phenomenon of manic motherhood"—I immediately felt like I was competing with other moms, constantly comparing myself, and never measuring up.

While the group facilitator, a trained lactation consultant and mother, was supportive and wonderful, giving compassionate advice, I couldn't help feeling my niece's hand-me-down carseat wasn't perfect enough compared the new ones with all their bells and whistles. I had very low milk production in those early weeks, so I was temporarily supplementing with formula per my pro-breastfeeding nurse practitioner's orders to get Clyde's weight up to healthy. I basically felt like I was giving him poison since I knew and "felt" the importance of breastfeeding, especially when I saw the looks the woman got who shared that she stopped after several painful weeks of trying. This brave mama made me feel more comfortable because wow, she had limits and she knew what they were. I sure didn't. I felt stuck between confusion, exhaustion, and conformity.

Clyde is now two and a half, and I still struggle almost daily to find comfort in my role. I frequently feel judged at the park, the daycare center, birthday parties, and even in some situations with my friends and family (and I dish out plenty of my own shameful judging to make myself feel better). I am often afraid of even identifying myself as a mama. To me, it means aprons, comfortable shoes, bake sales, and smiles through all situations. More importantly and more scary for me, it means putting myself last and throwing my creative spirit headfirst in front of the speeding train of mamahood. When it comes to writing on the topic of motherhood, I have pigeonholed the mother's experience as boring although I would scoff if you asked me if I felt this way.

It wasn't until I attended a meeting of mamas wishing to start a new local parenting magazine a few months ago that I was faced with the real possibility of writing about and analyzing my own motherhood experiences. My first instinct was, "Ugh, am I going to have to sign up to make cookies every week?" followed by, "Wow, maybe I can write about the way it really is and not the way everyone might think it is or the way I think it has to be..."

So I attended, dragging along my girlfriend Amy. Talking to other mamas about the intricacies of motherhood was uplifting (somehow this was easier without kids in tow; no competitions; no interruptions). While this particular magazine was not up our alley in terms of content, the idea of a magazine that breaks down the stereotypes and unrealistic pressures on mothers, analyzes all this judgment and self-doubt, tears down useless martyrdom and perfectionism, and shares real experiences was alive in my mind and in Amy's too. The ideas behind mamazine.com were cooking. And biggest of all for me—I wanted to pursue this writing and editorial venture, with help and support from my husband, without guilt and with the same kind of love and passion with which I raise Clyde.

Motherhood has certainly changed over the years for better and for worse, but I think we are harder on ourselves today than ever before. As a little girl in the 70s, I adored the neighborhood mamas who worked and didn't work, created babysitting co-ops, got teenage babysitters on the weekends, and relaxed over wine spritzers with my mom—all while successfully raising wonderfully average children. The moms in my lower middle class neighborhood seemed content in the idea that the possibilities for their children were endless. Maybe this is just a romanticized perception of my childhood, but this is the comfort level I want to get back to in a sense. I want to be supported in doing the things I need to do financially, emotionally, or passionately, and I also want to be supported in claiming the occasional respite in my day-to-day life when I want or need it.

Some days like today, sitting here in the not-so-comfortable high heels I choose to wear through motherhood—one of those old sensations of freedom and "me"-ness I cling to—I know I am a good mama even though I may not always wear a smile or even do it "right" as the "experts" of the world see it. Days like this, I trust myself and my choices, and I am not afraid. In fact, some days—like yesterday when Clyde sat next to me contently coloring while I worked on this column—I even felt like I had finally mastered my own kind of motherhood. Of course, I'm not always there. Those moments of pure balance and peace are rare, so I try to revel in their scarcity.

I will never forget the night I unloaded my mama worries onto my therapist. "I just don't enjoy playing kid games for very long. I never have the right healthy snacks. I want to write. I feel like a bad mother."

She told me simply, "Play when you enjoy playing. Get childcare when you need it. Ask another mom you respect what the right snacks are. Ask for help. Forcing yourself to be unhappy will never make you a good mother."

At mamazine.com, I want to celebrate a kind of motherhood that is honest and nourishes the mama and the family spirit—whatever that looks like. It may be different than the one you've seen or chosen, but I hope to celebrate the mama I am becoming and other mamas who have done it their way or any way that worked, as well as the ones who tried a bunch of stuff that didn't. In this, I hope to put an end to some of my fears and maybe even some of your fears. Down with mamaphobia, I say. Let's just mama and let mama today.