I ummmed and ahhhhed about writing this post before finally deciding to put pen to paper or rather fingertips to keyboard and sharing it with you today. Perhaps some of you are feeling/ did feel the same way. Perhaps there are others who will disagree entirely with what you’re about to read. Either way today’s ramblings are purely my experiences, my emotions and are therefore subjective….I’d be interested to see how many of you identify with some of the thoughts and feelings I went through when I became a mum.

To say I lost a sense of who I was when I first became a mum is an understatement. For 30 years I had been Lolly, someone who loved (needed!) her own space but equally the opportunity to spontaneously pop out for cocktails with the girls. I relished (still do) revelling in a rainy Sunday afternoon with a brilliant book in bed (oh the decadence!), talking until the early hours with Ste and pretty much doing what the hell I wanted to when it suited me. I know…utterly selfish.

And then it all changed.

The absolute second Hector was born, Lolly seemed to vanish and instead I became simply ‘Hector’s mum’.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. Instead I was thrown into the deep end and forced to navigate the choppy waters of first-time mum anxiety; ‘Am I doing this right’, ‘Is he ok?’, ‘Why won’t he latch’ etc etc. Hector came first. Always. And my sense of self shuffled off miserably to the side as tiredness took over and doubts set in and grief for my old life nibbled at the corners of newborn bliss.

It sounds so awful when I write it down. I promise you that I wasn’t an wallowing mess of self-pity but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that felt incredibly lost.

From an aesthetic perspective I didn’t recognise myself either. I didn’t like the baby weight I’d gained, I didn’t get the glow and since giving birth I was now the proud owner of a wobbly jelly belly and had the tendency to break out in copious sweats at night or whenever I attempted to exercise. A health visitor assured me it was the body’s way of getting rid of excess fluid and sure enough I no longer get them. I can remember frequently wailing to Becky over whatsapp about post-baby body issues – when did she feel she got her body back after having Leo, how long would it be until I felt ‘normal’ again. She was as ever unfailingly patient with me and completely reassuring.

I hadn’t been in intimate contact with the vast part of my pre-pregnancy wardrobe for the last nine months. I missed it, hell I wanted to start wearing it all again because I was so flipping bored of pregnancy jeans and loose fitting tops. But what was my style now? What could I realistically wear without it being covered in baby sick? When was I going to get back into that leather skirt I loved so much? Would it even look the same?

I realise that looking back it all sounds so ridiculously indulgent and utterly self-centred. My mum frequently told me to give myself a break, that I’d just given birth and that it would take as long as it takes for me to return to normal…whatever the new ‘normal’ would be. Patience should have been my game plan but in true Verucca Salt style ‘I wanted it now’…I wanted everything just the way it was before but this time with Hector in tow.

Ha.

How incredibly short-sighted I was. I guess that’s what lack of sleep does to a girl. Or perhaps the side-effects of living in today’s world of instant gratification?

My sense of self wasn’t pretty clothes and a more refined body though. Perhaps more importantly I felt there wasn’t the smallest bit of time for me any more, for what I wanted to do, for my own space. I felt as if I was on a perpetual hamster wheel of feeding, washing, sleeping and soothing before starting the whole process again. There was no spontaneity, and getting out of the house with a baby in tow became a military operation. I couldn’t see my friends as much as I used to and Ste and I were so tired that minuscule niggles that we would have laughed at pre-Hector became ridiculously big deals. I’d thought I’d prepared myself for a completely new way of life, of thinking, before Hector arrived…clearly not well enough.

I prattled on at length to both Ste and my mum that I wanted to be me again. But in actual fact I didn’t know who ‘me’ was anymore. I felt stagnant, not being able to move forward out of the fog that comes with being a new mum and not wanting to go back either. Because you see despite all my frustrations, I adore Hector and I couldn’t imagine life without him. He’s my partner-in-crime, my sidekick, a pint-sized comedian that has me in stitches every day. And he’s taught me so much more than I ever imagined I could learn and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my whole entire life.

It was only earlier this year, as late as May even, that I realised that I’d actually found ‘me’ again. Except it was a different Lolly, one that appreciated that I probably wasn’t going to ever see the lithe body of my twenties any more, that time spent with friends was going to definitely go down the quality not quantity route and that snatched romantic moments with Ste were going to be just that…snatched but all the more precious for it. And as for doing what I want to do, just me on my own? Well I’m working on that…digging in the garden whilst Hector naps has definitely helped. I’ve realised it’s all about being clever with your time and making the most of what life throws at you, tantrums and snot-covered jeans included.

It’s been a gradual process (but a wake-up call nonetheless) and I’m sure that it will all go to pot again with the next kid whenever he/she may come along. But at least this time I can trust the fact that I found ‘Lolly’ before and I will most definitely find her again. After all as the saying goes…everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

Image by We Are The Clarkes