There’s nothing quite like a poorly baby to take you back to those oh so hard early newborn days. This parenting lark takes on a whole new level of stress when you have a sick baby. Spending endless hours pacing the floor, running frantically to and frow with any remedies you can find to soothe the pink bundle of joy. Your heart races as you switch between standing, sitting, rocking forwards, rocking sideways, grabbing bottles, ointments and any other distractions you can lay your one hand on. All the while you’re thinking about the sleep you’re not going to get. Last week was one of those weeks.
With my first Mother’s Day looming I wasn’t feeling very spritely about the whole event. After all, I’d had sod all sleep for seven nights. I was beyond exhausted from all the worrying and from having a tiny human constantly screaming in my face just to make sure that mummy got the memo that she really wasn’t happy. I had so much calpol in my hair that I was giving Cameron Diaz a run for her money in There’s Something About Mary. But when I woke up on Mother’s Day, having had a cheeky extra hour sleep thanks to the Hubster, it suddenly dawned on me that I was a Mummy.
It was as if for the last six months I had been given a flour baby as a school project and I was trying desperately not to fail. Not achieving anything normal in a day- even doing the washing or keeping the house tidy- was a massive fail in my eyes. When really, looking back now, just the fact that we both made it through the day alive was a massive pass. But I never gave myself enough credit for everything I had achieved over the last six months.
Here I was, snuggled in bed, giggling and playing with a beautiful baby girl, bursting with pride at how far we had come together. We were finally getting to really know each other. I know how to make her laugh, make her smile. How to comfort and soothe her. I know this little person inside out and she knows me. We muddle through each day together and we’ve become a team. I realised that I’m not as clueless as I was six months ago. We still have our tough days, but I feel like we’ve got this down a little bit better.
I’m finally realising what all the fuss is about when they say they are worth it, because I’d spent a whole lot of time wondering when I was supposed to feel like all this hard work and strain was actually worth it. Just because I’d yearned to be a mummy for so long, it doesn’t mean that we were meant to find this whole experience any easier than those who shook hands and fell pregnant. If anything, the pressure is on so much more because you feel like you should be finding it easier having wanted it so bad. It doesn’t work like that. But at least now I’m finding the confidence to deal with the negatives and embrace the positives of parenthood.
I’ve spent too much time mourning the loss of the person I was before. Focusing too much on what I haven’t achieved and what I can’t achieve in a day anymore. So much so that I’ve been missing out on what I really have achieved. The person I am now, the person Elsie has made me. She made me a Mummy and I’ll always remember our first Mother’s Day. It was the day I realised that I wasn’t doing half bad.
Until next time…
With Love & Being Mummy,
Photo credit: The Chronicles Of…Photography