On motherhood

I'm thankfully well out of the baby phase and happy never to go back there. Well, not happy exactly, I always thought I'd have 3, if not 4 kids, but between our spectacular talent for making reflux babies and the continued presence of depression in my life, more kids just aren't an option. But, I have a lot of friends who are either pregnant, trying to get pregnant, or have very young babies, so the early days have been on my mind a lot. I was talking about this with Mam at the weekend, she was commenting on how different things are now, how we're so overwhelmed with information and advice that it paralyses us. And she's right. For every piece of parenting advice out there, you'll find another 'expert' telling you the exact polar opposite. Not. helpful.

Looking back, there is so much I would do differently, so much I wish I'd known. Because there are things they don't tell you about in the antenatal classes, and things that nobody likes to talk about. Yes, we were told life would never be the same again, but that doesn't even begin to cover it. I remember so clearly the day we came home from hospital with D. I was PETRIFIED. Seriously. Scared out of my mind. We came home, put his car seat on the table in the sitting room and looked at each other. What on earth were we supposed to do with him??

I think the hardest part of all is accepting that the reality of parenthood is nothing, and I mean literally nothing, like we expected.

I'm pretty sure when I was pregnant I imagined cuddles, a smiling baby, pottering about the house or garden with a gurgly little man bouncing in his chair beside me - in short, that I would be a zen like earth mamma. I'm reasonably confident the sun was also constantly shining in this happy little daydream/delusion and that I was getting lots of sleep. There definitely wasn't post natal depression, reflux, projectile vomiting, projectile poo (yes, really), crippling exhaustion, loneliness and a myriad other joys.

If I could talk to my terrified, first time mother self, there are a few things I'd tell her:

It is not easy. I'd go so far as to say becoming a parent was the hardest thing I've ever done. I love my kids, absolutely and completely, more than I ever thought possible, but there's no escaping just how hard it is.

Do I have a point? I'm actually not sure. No, I do. If you're reading this and you're at home with a baby, be kind to yourself. Be kind to your baby Daddy. It will be all too easy to get angry with him, resent him for having the freedom to go to work, and play tired olympics over and over again. You're in this together and you have to look after each other. Tell him what's on your mind, or if you're struggling, or going stir crazy for want of a little adult conversation. You're not wonderwoman, you're human. You'll make mistakes. Sometimes, despite your best efforts your little cherub will be inconsolable, you'll have no idea why or how to fix it and you'll want to tear your hair out. But, you'll muddle through the best you can. And someday, that little cherub will be about to turn 6 and be able to talk about the big bang and dinosaurs and make you laugh till you cry, or surprise you with a bear hug, or make you immeasurably proud of him for mastering something new. He'll need you to wrap your arms around him and tell him you love him every night before he goes to sleep, and he'll smile and blow kisses to you constantly during his first school play. He'll melt your heart. Suddenly, you'll realise that you survived those first few months. Not only did you survive it, you actually did a pretty good job.

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