What they don’t tell you about motherhood

My last working day was 5 February 2015. Baby K’s due date was 10 March but the cautionary spirit within me wanted to leave plenty of time in case it ‘happened’. Of course, when I was still very pregnant one month after being home, I began to regret my decision and wished for something to do to stop me going crazy. The waiting game is tough. I tried long walks, using the bouncing ball, scrubbing the whole house from kitchen to garden. Baby K was arriving fashionably late and I just had to accept it. I remember feeling a kind of loneliness around this time. I was waiting for one of the most exciting days of my life, and yet I was feeling restless, agitated and alone. It was an oxymoron of a situation.

Since being home, I’ve often been overtaken by a similar bout of emotions. I love that I can fully indulge in those unforgettable moments like Baby K’s first clap and attempts to walk by herself. I feel this immense joy at knowing I’m the first person she reaches out to. That my mere existence can have such an influence on a little persons life is in itself uncomprehendable.

But sometimes it gets lonely. People say a lot of things about motherhood. There’s play dates, nursery runs, mealtimes that get extended into hour long affairs, nappies that are never ending and the continuous rendition of wheels on the bus. But overshadowing all this, there’s an overwhelming feeling of loneliness.

I don’t think I’ve had time to think about it before. So caught up I was in thinking about what meal to prepare for Baby K, worrying whether she’s got the right number of wet nappies, dreading her next day at nursery, that I completely forgot to acknowledge what I’m feeling.

I don’t know if working mums feel the same. I guess there is a stronger sense of social interaction with other like-minded adults; it must take away the sting of everyday parenting challenges.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I know there are a lot of people desperate to become parents and for whatever reason can’t. I’m just thinking out loud about the sheer exhaustion you feel knowing that everyday is a battle- a battle to get in the car seat, a battle to complete a full meal without tantrums (and one that doesn’t include banana) and a battle to put Baby K to sleep.

Sometimes my head hurts. Sometimes I just want to hand off all baby responsibilities to someone else. No more force-feeding. No more pleading with a 10 month old to stop crying in the pushchair because we’re nearly home. No more tip toeing around the house when baby is sleeping.

We’ve just moved house and maybe it’s because I don’t know any other mums in the area yet. Sure, there are mums I’ve said hello to at playgroup or the ones I’ve smiled at as we’ve sat round a circle for rhyme time in the library. But that’s hardly interaction, is it? A quick cursory ‘How old is she?’ and ‘She’s cute!’ and that’s the end of the conversation. No agreements to meet for a quick drink. No promises to meet up again the next week. Maybe I’m out of touch with the dating game for making mum friends. Maybe next time, I’ll make the first move and suggest we all meet for coffee before the class? I guess a suggestion for gin and tonic might be too strong (excuse the pun).

Watch this space for an update on whether I brave the courage to ask out one of the mum friends from playgroup!*

PS- I don’t mean for it to sound sexist; they just all happen to be mums at the playgroups I’ve been too.