If you are having a bad day, you’ll know that you can go up to a mum with a ribbon (Picture: Sarah Whiteley)

‘Theo, please sit down,’ I hissed to my two-year-son.

Ignoring my desperate plea, he continued to whizz around the table, nearly knocking into a waitress.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I apologised frantically, trying to adjust my three-month-old daughter, Immy, who was feeding on my lap, just enough to catch him.

As he danced out of reach with a huge smile on his face, I could feel tears stinging at my eyes. I had never felt so helpless, or useless, or isolated.

All I wanted was for someone to burst into the scene, sit Theo down and give him some crayons and take Immy off me so I could go to the toilet and take a deep breath.

But of course, they didn’t. Why would they? Because despite the coffee shop being filled with other mums, some alone, some in groups of two or three, they didn’t know I needed help – or even if I was open to them coming over.

That’s why I was so delighted when I read about ‘The Mum Ribbon Movement’.

Started just this month by psychotherapist and mum-of-three Anna Mathur, it involves mums tying a ribbon to their bag to signal to others that they are happy to be approached if either another mum needs help – or if they look like they need help themselves.

She said the idea came to her when she was out on her local high street one day. One of her children was screaming and the other two were dawdling behind her. Hitting a real low, she looked around her, hoping to see a friend or someone she knew.

‘I saw mums and families, and I knew that at least one of them must have wished they could help me. It got me thinking, what stops us from asking, what stops us from offering?’, she wrote on Instagram.

And that’s where the ribbon comes in. By seeing it, you know that if you see a mum who does look stressed out or upset, you can offer help without risk of offending or upsetting her.

Or, alternatively, if you are the one having the bad day, you’ll know that you can go up to a mum with a ribbon and she will have your back.

Like the best ideas, its brilliance is in its simplicity. The fact that it’s such an easy – and discreet – thing to do is what makes it so ideal for new mums. Overwhelmed and exhausted, it’s an ultra-easy way for them to ask for help, without having to physically say a word. 

I never realised just how difficult being a new mum would be

And I’m not the only one who is bowled over by the idea. One follower enthused, ‘This is so wonderful Anna and I’m sure it will help many ❤️☺️.’

‘Love this idea! Off to find some ribbons!’ commented a second, while a third wrote, ‘We can’t wait, thank you for coming up with this beautiful movement. 🙌👏❤️.’

Because what few people realise before they have a baby is just how lonely motherhood and, in my case, particularly maternity leave can be.

I was so excited for having my first baby, Theo, I didn’t really give too much thought to what would happen next. Yes, of course, I knew in theory that I had nine months of maternity leave from my job as features editor on a women’s weekly magazine, 10 if I included the holidays I tacked onto the end.

But while I imagined bonding with my baby and enjoying not having to leave the house by 7.30am every morning, I never thought about how I’d actually fill my days. It genuinely never crossed my mind.

Equally, I also never realised just how difficult being a new mum would be. You just don’t, not until you are one.

I didn’t have the mental resilience to admit that I couldn’t do it alone (Sarah Whiteley)

I still remember my first baby class, a multi-sensory one, which promised songs and puppets and laughter and fun for me and my little one.

I strode out of my flat purposefully, looking forward to introducing Theo, then four months old, to something new, meeting some new mums, maybe going for coffee, or even lunch, afterwards.

Then Theo slept through the whole thing. As he snuffled gently in front of me, while the other mums sang songs to their babies and sat them on their knees to watch the bubbles, I have never felt like such a spare part.

The two mums on either side of me said hello – but, caught up as they were with their own babies and other mums they already knew, that was as far as the conversation went.

As I put a still-sleeping Theo back in his pram and watched everyone else walk out, I felt completely deflated.

I have no doubt those ribbons will be many a new mum’s lifeline

I walked home, where of course Theo woke up and I had six hours to kill before my husband Tom got home. I sobbed as I made my sandwich for lunch.

There were innumerable occasions like that – like when I’d trekked 40 minutes to the park one sunny afternoon and realised I hadn’t brought suntan lotion, so I had to leave pretty much straight away.

Or when a 70-something woman stopped me in the street to ask why Theo wasn’t wearing socks and I barely made it three steps before bursting into tears at her accusatory tone.

Or when I then had my second baby, Immy, and Theo would always choose the moment I’d sat down to feed her to go racing around the café.

Thinking back to them now, none of these incidents seem like particularly big deals, but at the time, fuelled by insecurities and a lack of sleep, they all threatened to break my fragile veneer that I was ‘coping’ with my new role.

And it didn’t help that I lived 300 miles from my parents and my sister and knew no-one in my local area with children, so I spent a lot of time physically alone.

It was incredibly isolating.

And it’s not so easy to ask for help, not when most other mums seem to be in a massive rush themselves, caught up with their own children and their days.

Plus, I already felt vulnerable enough – I didn’t have the mental resilience to admit that I couldn’t do it alone, when everyone else seemed perfectly capable.

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If there had been some subtle way to signal, ‘Hey! Help me!’, I would have grabbed onto it with both hands.

Because all it would have taken to rescue me in those moments would have been a friendly smile and a ‘Can I help you with that?’, or ‘How ridiculous is he? I bet you’ve put those socks on a hundred times and he’s pulled them off every time’, or a simple, ‘Are you OK?’

So well done, Anna! I have no doubt those ribbons will be many a new mum’s lifeline!

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It’s not so easy to ask for help, not when most other mums seem to be in a massive rush themselves, caught up with their own children and their days.