This week, its Maternal Mental Health Week. Originally I was going to reflect on my 6 months with the perinatal mental health team and 16 weeks as a mum so far. The progress I've made and how it's been the best professional mental health support I've ever had.
But I've just sat down to write and had a big ugly overwhelm cry. So instead, I'm going to share what's going on right now, here in this moment.
I'm halfway into the 2nd of 3 x 52 hour stints of solo parenting. My husband has taken a new job in Essex, roughly 4 hours drive from our house. Luckily, after these few early weeks of 2 nights away, it'll be dropping down to 1 night away a week, which feels doable. The end is in sight!
Last week's first double nighter was plagued by sleep regression, growth spurts, teething and 2nd jabs. This week, the developmental gremlins seem to have settled a little, but I'm without a dog walker so I've got an overly energetic collie demanding a constant game of fetch to deal with too, as well as my own demons starting to rear their ugly heads.
Trying to take dog and baby for a walk just now proved too much, riddled with the lingering trauma from a dog attack incident a few weeks ago. I had a panic attack just up the lane from our house. I feel defeated and exhausted.
They say it takes a village to raise a tiny human. I feel a bit resentful I have family nearby (literally next door) who can't support for various reasons, being more of a hinderance than help. And the wonderful, more responsible folk in our life are further away with a lot of their own burdens. Just the offer of support - babysitting, a dog walk, a cup of tea, simple recognition and sympathy - would mean the world right now.
My nervous system is on fire, like constant full body pins and needles, bristles of anxious energy prickling on the back of my neck ready to trigger "over-protective mode" and reactively lash out at the most minimal thing (probably the tiny buttons sadist clothes designers have put on adorable baby outfits). I'm trying to adopt a lot of deep breathing and grounding techniques to keep my adrenals from sparking out, but my cortisol seems to be winning the body and brain battle.
I feel like I'm losing myself in an entanglement of paradoxes. Feeling immense warm fuzzy happiness and pride at what I'm achieving, but the repetitiveness of daily motherhood is starting to take its toll. The luck we've had feeding, whilst also wanting a break from the relentlessness of exclusively breastfeeding leaving me feeling tethered to the baby, my boobs on call 24/7, unable to have alone time for too long or too far from the house. Feeling like I can't do this, but also wanting another baby, dog and chickens to add to the brood. A deep yearning for my own space, knowing full well I'll immediately miss her. Never alone, but feeling lonely.
This motherhood thing is really fucking tough, and equally really fucking wonderful. Both things can be true at once.
A mum friend sent me a reassuring quote "sometimes things FEEL hard because they ARE hard". I love being a mum. I love my daughter and my family I'm growing. I feel so lucky to have the bond we have. But no amount of love stops the hard bits being hard, and thats OK to admit. My mental wellbeing currently feels like its precariously bluetacced together by baby smiles and the euphoric rush of spotting the smallest of developmental progress. Right now, in this moment, I need more.
I am desperate for some proper time on my own, time with my husband, a proper adult conversation not superficial baby themed small talk. Time to fully switch off from the constantly running to-do list and maternal mental load remembering ALL of the things. Time to rediscoverwho I am now I'm a mum and newly unemployed. I need this time. Not just for me, my baby too. I know I cannot be the best mum if I am not at my best and she deserves the bloody best. I need the space and time to myself I crave. Anyone would struggle being with another human 24/7. It is a fundamental need to sooth and restore, especially when you have a tiny person completely dependent on you.
But anything I can get at the moment feels like stolen moments, desperately grasping and begrudgingly accepting whatever scraps of time I can get, over far too quickly when I'm summoned for feeding time, the solitude bubble burst. It says something when the dentists felt like a blissful luxury the other day. Life is joyfully and painfully, overwhelmingly irrecognisable from a few months ago and I'm struggling with the pace of adjusting.
I have no grand conclusion to this or any pithy revelation. Just, I need a nap. And a hug. And a solo stay in a fancy hotel room with only a glass of wine and a good book for company (and probs the husband), knowing full well I'd spend the whole time missing her.