My first maternity leave was in the summertime. So that meant that my earliest outings with my baby boy, strolling the streets of New York City, were sunny and warm (and, yes, smelled a bit like pee).

When strangers stopped to remark that my son needed more shade or fewer layers or booties or more sun or a sweater or a fan or a blanket or mosquito netting (!), I mostly was able to smile, roll my eyes internally, and feel like I was experiencing a universal mommy milestone: unsolicited advice. I dressed my baby in a little onesie a friend had given us that read, “What do I look like, I was born yesterday?” and I’d point at him, remembering the neon orange “new driver” bumper sticker my parents had made me use as a teenager behind the wheel. Maybe I needed a funny t-shirt too: “New Mom. Still learning!”

Then, in September, I went back to work and things took a turn. It was much less funny.

Daycare was, according to the opinions hurled my way, “a germ pit.” But leaving my son with a nanny was, “letting someone else raise your kid.” Pumping breastmilk was, “a waste of time,” and also, apparently “bowing to the gods of capitalism,” and, simultaneously, “the one good thing” I was doing for my child every day while at work. And if I was stressed (ya think?), I was told: “Baby is fine…but only if you are, Mama.”

Suddenly, every comment hit like a little electric shock of panic. What was this awful feeling?

I didn’t feel guilty. I was, back then, the primary earner in our family while my husband was in his medical training, so returning to work, blessedly, wasn’t some big internal debate – of course I was going back to my job and my paycheck.

I didn’t feel unsure of my instincts. I was a good Googler and researcher, and was quickly on a first-name basis with Nurse Diane at my pediatrician’s office for anything the internet couldn’t tell me about vitamin D drops or baby reflux.

What I did feel, I realized, was terribly judged. And worse, betrayed. Duped! By all these women (let’s be honest, most of the commenters were women) who had welcomed me to the club of motherhood with baby-bottle-shaped iced sugar cookies, and were now telling me all of the ways I was getting my membership wrong.

I wish I could tell you that I had a perfect eureka moment that let me see that this was a “them” problem, not a “me” problem. But the truth is, like so many aspects of parenthood (sorry! annoying!) it took time and was a cumulative awakening. I walked away from so many conversations puzzled and hurt only to have them all over again in my head, hours later, this time with the perfect retort…and a clearer understanding of just why on Earth someone would say something so rude.

Here are the three truths I’ve come to realize that have helped the most, and three ways that you can apply them with grace, diplomacy, and your heart intact – no matter how mad you may be.

Judgy person truth #1: Most people – really, truly – think they’re being helpful. Compassion, research has shown, is a natural human impulse. We are built to intervene and assist when we perceive suffering. It’s that perception that’s out of whack because so often, the process of learning can look like suffering. People make assumptions based on their own wounds, remembering the things that were hardest for them and overlaying them onto your experience. If I once tripped with the stroller over a rain puddle that had accumulated in a curb, it’s going to take all of my self-control not to point out a similar puddle to another new mom in an impulse of compassion. Never mind that her stroller has bigger wheels, or that there’s a school crossing guard right there helping, or that she’s already tripped once and now knows. I’m dying to help.

Judgy person truth #2: We get very attached to our own decisions – especially those made in times of stress. As I’ve mentioned so many times in this column (funny how it keeps…coming…up) working motherhood in America is an unnaturally bootstrapped, solo endeavor. Without the paid leave and childcare subsidies that are standard rights in other societies, we are forced to make some of the hardest, most fraught decisions with little guidance and no real social contract: How many hours of child care can we afford, and of what quality? Should you skip the meeting to go to the second grade poetry unit publishing party? How about sleep training? Using formula? Going part time? By the time you’ve done all of the mental math and life upheaval to make your decision happen – you are attached to that decision. It is the right decision. An affirming decision. The best decision possible. And you really think you’re being helpful and compassionate if you help every other mother make that same decision. (See also: Confirmation bias.)

Judgy person truth #3 Many moms long for a do-over. The obvious example here would be grandparents or older-generation judgers who may have dreamed of this second chance for a long time. But this judgy person type #3 could also be someone who is only one or two parenting stages ahead of you and just enough in the mess of that moment to be wistful and amnesiac about yours. Kindergarten teacher conferences look awfully quaint when you’ve got a kid getting rejected from college after college. This third category of judgers also includes those experiencing survivor bias, which I’ll write more about in a future column. While you might think that the senior mom of three at work would be the most clued in about the challenges you’re experiencing, she likely went through them herself with fewer resources – and somehow managed to stay. She’s a subset, not the norm. Policies have improved, visibility for parenthood at work is better now than it was even five years ago. And, however implicit and unintentional they may be, her biases could be showing. Another version: She survived but isn’t thriving and regrets some of the Sheryl Sandberg-ing she did when her kids were younger.

So whew – that’s a lot to take in and consider, I know. No one expects you to be perfectly empathetic to your naysayers. But if you can manage the most generous interpretation of their bad manners, you’ll be doing yourself a big, big favor. So, here are three extremely gracious and adaptable things you can say depending on how pissed you are:

What to say back if you’re only slightly annoyed: “I can tell you just want to help, but I’m learning this new working mom thing as I go. Hopefully, I’ll have advice to give one day, too.”

What to say back if you’re definitely salty: “Wow, that’s hard to hear. I hope I can lean on you for help if you’re right about that.”

What to say back if you’re legit fuming: “As you might imagine, I’m on the receiving end of a lot of advice, some welcome, some not. I don’t make decisions lightly. This is what I’ve decided for now.”

If all else fails, I highly recommend keeping a list of these moments. The absurdity of the sheer volume of comments and their contradictions will be all the proof you need: It’s them, not you! You’re doing great. Keep going.

Lauren Smith Brody is the CEO of The Fifth Trimester, a workplace gender equality consultancy, and a co-founder of the Chamber of Mothers, a public policy nonprofit. Find her on Instagram or LinkedIn to get in touch.