Some days, it’s 8am and you’ve already contemplated going out and buying cake. Some days, it’s a reality. You go out and buy not one, but two portions of cake, with All The Intention In The World of sharing it with a friend. Turns out your friend isn’t having sugar right now – how convenient. So you eat all the cake, all by yourself. And you feel damn good about it.
Today, my little snugglebug turns one. 12 months ago, right at this very moment, I’d been a mother for all of 25 minutes. I’d spent 16 hours in labour, tried to deal with the pain drug-free (failed), tried gas (failed – because honestly, aside from making my head feel a little wooh-wooh, it really didn’t do much for me) and after 12 hours of the most excruciating pain ever, an overpaid anesthesiologist stuck a needle in my back and all was right with the world again. I lay there in a beautiful drug-induced numbness, appreciating my pain-free body like I’d never done before. And 25 minutes ago to the second, my world changed forever with the arrival of the most precious bundle I would ever have the honour of cuddling.
So. I’m officially well into my second week of work. How am I feeling? Lots of people have asked, mostly hesitantly because they just don’t know how I’m going to react. Considering my previous post on motherhood, there’s a real possibility that I might break down hysterically over the demise of my maternity leave.
So how am I, really?
Sometimes I think that motherhood is the epitome of irony. Firstly, you give birth – hands down the most tiring thing you ever have to physically do – and when you most need the rest, you never ever get any rest ever again. After that, there are lots of little ironies like wanting them to sleep when they won’t and wanting them to wake when they won’t. And poos when you’re running late. Always.
And now, just when I’m honestly starting to really truly enjoy being a mum and want to spend every day with Sam, I have to go back to work.
Originally, I’d planned to blog about motherhood on a monthly basis: the first month, second month and so on. But who am I kidding? Finding time to blog properly is but a pipe dream, let alone thinking and writing about something profoundly meaningful and life altering. But it’s been six months and every single day I’m confronted with thoughts and feelings (both positive and negative) that compel me to put “pen to paper”, so here I am.