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maybe it’s just Monday

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it’s a funny old thing, isn’t it, motherhood. you spend so many years trying to prevent it, another period of time desperately longing for it, and then six months after actually giving birth, you are still reeling, wondering if you ever did make the right choice, and how to make the right choices now.

it’s so competitive. how much sleep, when, where, weaning, crawling. mums trading horror stories; who has the worst time of it. and now, at six months, sitting, crawling, eating, which regime, which routine. soon it will be returning to work that sparks the discussions – and you can bet your bottom dollar that whatever option anyone chooses will always be the wrong one.

i’m fed up of it.

actually, truth be told, i’m a bit fed up generally. hormones maybe. but i’m finding being at home with Pip is lonely and often tedious and tests me in ways I never expected. i feel full of self-doubt, occasional self-loathing, my erstwhile self-confidence disappeared.

i can hear people’s (often conflicting) comments ringing in my ears. “being at work was so much harder. i just don’t understand how people find being at work easier”… “it would be sad if she’d got to the end of maternity leave without achieving anything”… i feel simultaneously lonely yet crowded with other people’s opinions. i miss… actually, i’m not quite sure what i miss, other than sleep. maybe that’s it.

maybe that’s it. maybe i just need more than 3 hours sleep at a time.

and yet, i wouldn’t change it. i wasn’t happier before. it was just different. i just didn’t feel i had to justify myself all the time; i didn’t feel that i was being judged, all the time, on my choices and decisions represented by a small, wriggling, shouting bundle of self-definition.

(maybe it’s just Monday.)


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