mother lode

Last year kicked my ass with the biggest learning curve I have ever experienced: how to manage life with an often sick baby, a senior job, a marriage, friendships and everything else that happened in between.

Between Easter and Christmas at least 1 – and usually 2 – of the 3 of us had some kind of illness. Edie was hospitalised 3 times, most dreadfully in December for 5 days with a mystery virus.

However, we did make it through. And there were small moments. Small lessons. Small and important lessons, particularly for me to remember as we head in to what could be another winter of illness (and this time I’m pregnant).

1. Ask for help. For us this usually meant support from family and friends who brought food over for dinner or texted advice at strange hours or my boss who often understood when I caught up on work from home at strange hours.
2. Be organised. Do not leave buying the birthday present to the morning of the party or anything similar. Buy it / book it / organise it as soon as you know you need to and then when something goes awry, you’re already sorted.
3. Stock up. Have mountains of paracetamol for you and pamol for the baby. Have lemons, baby wipes, hand sanitiser, toilet paper, washing liquid, coffee, tissues, nappies, formula, etc so you don’t have to go anywhere when you can’t decide what hurts more – your throat or the way the baby is crying.
4. Take the moments of personhood wherever you can and wherever they come.  And sometimes they will come at strange times. Drink a fresh, hot cup of coffee in a small sliver of winter sunlight; have a lunchtime express pedicure; take a long shower while someone else is on watch.
5. Keep swimming. Summer finally did arrive and does arrive and WILL arrive. You can do this because you have to, because you have no choice and because you can’t think of anything else or anywhere you’d rather be.

Wish us luck!

Someone on Twitter shared this article about how to move cities without feeling lonely – when you consider a city which is less geographical and more metaphorical, it feels like what I’m experiencing right now. I’ve moved to a new place and, although I still have all the same friends and family, the “loss, dislocation, alienation and isolation” are very real. I’m not depressed (and know I’m very lucky) but parental leave can be lonely!

My week used to be full of thought, conversation and measurable work. I had clearly defined weeks and weekends. I would meet a friend for lunch or have coffee with a colleague without thinking about how to navigate the venue with a stroller. I could pop out at lunch to do some shopping or go to the post office and not have to consider nap timing. I’d never realised how a simple set of activities could easily expand to fill more time than I have now between feeds.

For the first 6-8 weeks leaving the house by myself with Edie felt like a mission, so when people often offered to come to us I gladly accepted. However, as I started to feel more cabin feverish and Edie started to sleep for long stretches in the night, it was time for us to get out more.

We hit a couple of snags on the way. I was nervous out with Edie knowing that I didn’t have Darren’s co-parenting confidence to help. I thought if she cried when we were out that people would think I wasn’t able to take care of my baby. I worried that people would stare at me feeding her with a bottle (a subject for another post entirely!) or be annoyed at the space the stroller took up. I didn’t know how I’d change her when we were out if there wasn’t a changing room.

There was one week when Edie was about 8 weeks old where a few different people (without realising it and for completely different, understandable reasons) had to cancel or postpone our plans. It rained for nearly a week straight and suddenly, I’d spent most of the week at home with only the baby for company. Things seemed dire. It felt like people had forgotten me and the prospect of being without adult conversation all day made me dread Darren’s departure every morning.

Now, 12 weeks on, I’m much more resilient but definitely rely heavily on my coping strategies.

Remember: no one is watching — and if they judge, they actually suck
One morning I was having coffee with my brother and felt particularly edgy about the cafe we were at and the other patrons. I feared I’d have to change Edie or that she’d wake up and start crying, which would disturb everyone’s peaceful morning. In a kind but wise way, he told me about a state called “imagined audience”, where a person feels like everyone is watching them (his example being an overweight person at the gym for the first time) when actually no one is watching because they’re ultimately concerned with their own lives.  I also realised that if someone is annoyed with me for something I don’t have control over (i.e. Edie crying) that’s their issue and not something I can take on — figuring out what she needs is the top priority.

Act: get out of the house when you can — or at least, stay busy
Once I realised that Edie loves to ride around (and sleep) in the stroller, we started doing a lot of walking. We meet up for coffee or go for walks with friends who are stay-at-home/work-at-home/freelance friends. We walk to the supermarket and use the bike path a lot. Darren works from home on Wednesdays which helps to break up the week. Scheduling activities in my calendar makes the weeks seem much more full. I don’t let a fine day go by without trying to get out and about, because when the rainy days come you want be able to hold off the crazy feelings. When the rain does come, I make sure to check off a few things on my list or if I’ve had a busy day looking after Edie I try to do a few easy activities which I know will make me feel like things are under control (have a shower, do some washing, tidy the kitchen/lounge).

Recognise: it’s not you, it’s them
When people have to change their plans or just don’t really follow up on doing things, it’s not that they don’t want to spend time with you — it’s just that their lives haven’t changed. Just like a real move, this has only happened to me. The people with the flexible calendars are still in the same city they’ve always been in. Their lives and commitments continue as normal. You’re lucky to have friends who do put other stuff aside, even if it’s infrequent or brief or feels a bit rushed. Thinking of things to discuss other than Edie’s latest tiny development or her latest routine and getting both of you ready to go out was still worth it.

(Note: for me, I decided that making new friends to hang out with in the week isn’t the answer since I’ll be going back to work in a few months. I tried meeting up with my antenatal classmates a few times, but found it hard to see true friendship forming with women I only know because they had babies at roughly the same time. We only spent 12 hours together in our class.)

Focus: the big picture is positive
Edie is amazing and we are so lucky to have her in our lives. As my midwife very wisely advised, this is just a season in my life and soon enough my challenge will be how to juggle working 40-50 hours a week as well as being a mum, wife, friend & sister/daughter. I’m trying to enjoy this time at home for what it is and as it comes.

That said, wanna hang out? Edie might cry in the middle of our meal and I might have a moment or two where I need to think about the best way to deal with a potential poo-splosion away from the comfort of our change table. However, I’ll try not to go into the minutiae of her day or bore you with thoughts on how to refine our systems – and, in some ways, I hope these are the days we’ll remember spending together in years to come.