Here we are – 13 and a half months after giving birth to my son Atlas and the first time I’m putting proverbial pen to paper to write about my journey into motherhood. I’ve started and scrapped probably over 15 posts about motherhood thus far because I just felt like I had so much to say and that I couldn’t possibly condense it into a post or two.
From the initial baby blue hormones (they’re so so normal and I promise they go – I wish I could have told myself to not worry as I sobbed every early evening whilst I washed my stitches and felt so down that I worried I may be heading for postnatal depression – it passes and it is your body readjusting to not being pregnant. Of course if it does persist and lasts all day then you should seek help immediately), to the relief of pure joy when I started to get the hang of things around the 3 week mark when my hormones adjusted and I felt physically stronger, the attempts at an early routine with a sleep specialist which left me more sleep deprived and confused than ever (worst decision ever to have a stranger in my home telling me to wake up my sleeping 6 week old because the routine said it was time) to deciding that co-sleeping was the best route for us; we co slept solidly for 5 months then next to the bed for the next 7.
The weaning or lack thereof at the beginning (so much pureé thrown in my face) and the gradual weaning off the boob. Never expressing – couldn’t be bothered with all the faff and paraphernalia – I still managed to maintain a semblance of a social evening life despite the looks of consternation from others. Boob morning until night and then through the night up to four times or more with teething (teething! don’t get me started on teething- don’t overthink it, just ride it out with cuddles) and then the shift, one day realising that it was ok to move him into his own room and the dawning realisation that he actually COULD sleep through the night. Was it just beginners luck? One night, two nights then one week then one month then six weeks later and he is still there in his own room for 12 hours at night with no milk – a miracle that I couldn’t have predicted and wouldn’t have been strong enough to do alone if it weren’t for my husband taking the reigns and holding my hand through it and making me pause before rushing in when he first started crying on the first nigh (by the time I stood up and started walking to his room he had already fallen back asleep). Magic!
It has been a rollercoaster and more often than not one that I’m incredibly happy to be on. I find life 100% better now than it was before, the struggles have made me feel like a stronger more competent person. Doing supper, bath and bed solo and then collapsing on the sofa with my own supper is one of my favourite feelings on the planet after a day of rushing around after my baby and then dashing to a few meetings, coming home, changing into leggings and rushing off to the park to meet our baby friends every single afternoon come rain or shine has given me a new lease of life and energy that I never expected.
When I used to wonder what life would be like with a baby I used to try to not imagine it too vividly for fear it would put me off or delay my decision to have one. I knew the infinite love that would come because my youngest brother was born a few months before I turned 16 and I loved (and still love) him like my own. But the energy – that was something no one spoke about. Feeling like a superhero every single day. Feeling more productive than I ever have in my life. Of course there are low points when you’re tired and grumpy but tell me a job in the world where there aren’t any of those? Being a mother has been the making of me. It has changed me in ways I never even knew possible.
Having a constant companion has made me happier and more comfortable in my own skin to be alone – I need, no, I crave being alone now like I never did before. Not because I don’t want to be with my son, but because I need it for my own sanity. The evenings my husband used to have work events or dinners I used to meticulously fill with my own plans – dinner with a friend or saying yes to those many many tedious evening PR events just to save myself from my own company. Now, however, after I’ve had an early supper with Atlas and given him his bath and read him his story and put him to sleep in his cot and closed to the door, if my husband is out I actually secretly rejoice to have a few hours to myself.
Find something you love and never work a day in your life – that is the one saying that continually pops into my head when I think of motherhood. It is work. It is never-ending but oh my gosh do I love it. You’ll read many accounts of motherhood and I don’t want you thinking this post is trite or skimming over the hard parts – this is acknowledging the hard parts, the trials and tribulations but ultimately realising that in the end it doesn’t matter. Without the hard parts the good parts wouldn’t feel as good. Without the sleepless nights the 12 hours of solid sleep wouldn’t feel as sweet or victorious. If you’re in the midst of those bleary eyed early few months and struggling or in the process of weaning and having spoons thrown at your head just know it gets easier, one day at a time and until then relish the hard parts because it is teaching you patience and understanding and a level of resilience and grit that no literal mountain hike or climb could. Motherhood is one hell of a journey and I know I have a long way yet to go and hopefully more children to come who may not be as smooth sailing as Atlas but I’m excited to see what is to come.