The first three months as a new mum were horrific. My friend’s husband told me that after 12 weeks it gets better and boy, did I hang on to that promise!
I struggled with feeding (breast and bottle) and a lack of uninterrupted sleep. Twenty months later, I’ve accepted I will never get a full eight hours uninterrupted until my child leaves home! But my friend was right. It did get better – or maybe I just became more used to free falling through my days!
Having lived in the area for just a year prior to my newfound situation, I threw myself into local groups and drop-in sessions. I experienced baby massage with ridiculous songs and impressive water fountain wees, messy play, singing, bongos and much more enforced fun (mostly sitting awkwardly on the floor in my socks).
The other mums seemed to have got it together – well manicured with eyebrows on point and matching buggy, bag, shoes, phone and gloves (OK, slight exaggeration) – whilst I looked like something that had been dug up!
But then the little milestones started coming: the smiles, the giggles, the rolling. It was wonderful and cancelled out the horrid bits (mostly).
I took my “new job” very seriously, over-thinking and analysing everything. After all, it was what I’d longed for; I wasn’t going to fail. The reality was that I’d gone from dashing out of the house to work, to never, ever being able to dash anywhere!! Wow, that was a lesson I had to learn very quickly!
Having a child has made my relationship with my husband stronger, but anyone who has a child when things aren’t great is truly crazy! Hubby and I are quite solid but we’ve certainly had (and still have) our moments. Early on, I remembered to heed some sound advice that any irrational feelings were only due to the “situation”. This is very true, and if you can accept that and roll with the mayhem I think things will pretty much be ok….