A couple of months ago on a rare girls weekend away a friend of mine told me I reminded her of Elsa from Frozen. I think it was a combination of the very blonde fishtail plait and generous application of mascara that did it (as well as several glasses of Pinot and very low light in a bar, ie basically squinting in the dark).

This has resulted in me singing the title track “Let it go” on a fairly regular basis even though I’m yet to see the film in full.  And actually, those three words have become my motherhood mantra as we begin a brand new year.

I’m not one for resolutions as such, I like to have a good old clear out in preparation for January 1st as much as the next person – as well as promising myself I will eat more greens and way less sugary treats (usually as I am half way through a chocolate orange at some point on boxing day, having already consumed a family tin of Quality Street and several boxes of Matchmakers to myself). But as we sprint ahead into 2016 I’m determined to keep to just one, at least to the very best of my ability.

And that’s to let it go – and by that I mean the unwavering and constant guilt that we all experience as parents. The root cause for me personally stems from my limited maternity leave, I told myself I didn’t have any choice but to leave Mabel with her Grandparents after what seemed like an incredibly short 6 weeks following her arrival into the world. I run my own company, it was only for two or three days out of seven, surely it was the most logical, practical and favourable decision? And how incredibly lucky I was to have the opportunity for my daughter to be cared for in such a loving environment whilst I endeavoured to grow the business – for the benefit of all of our futures.

There is obviously no right or wrong. But I will now freely admit the whole experience was heart-breaking, and not something I ever really discussed with my friends or family. In hindsight perhaps I should have been more open and honest.

Mabel would inevitably cry hysterically as she was taken out of my arms and strapped into her carseat. I would watch her tear sodden face crumple as I waved goodbye, trying to appear as positive as possible in the vain hope she would understand that everything would be ok. And that she would eventually be returned to where she belonged, at home with her Mum.

Mostly I would sit in my office by myself and sob for a good hour or so. Then I would make endless cups of tea and plough relentlessly through the ever increasing to-do list. Concentrating on other things was by far the most desirable option. Every time I even dared to stop and close my eyes for a moments rest, the scene of her leaving was seemingly etched across the forefront of my mind like a bad dream on a constant rotation of rewind and playback.

As you might expect, some mornings I simply couldn’t face it and would instead keep her with me, working around her nap times. We would sit on the sofa with a laptop balanced on my knees and her head in my lap. Those were the best days of all.

At six months old Mabel went to a local nursery three days a week, she still spent one day with her Nana and Grandad and a Friday with me. The more she settled into her new routine the happier we both were. At 21 months old it’s almost as if the decisions I made for her as a newborn are not really that relevant. Mabel is a sunny little girl, surrounded by family that love her and a wealth of varied experiences week to week.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember, that I don’t regret those initial decisions or that I wouldn’t change them if I could. I would. In a heartbeat. I only have to look at pictures of her from that time and the realisation that she was so fucking tiny, makes me admit to myself that I potentially gave away some of the most precious moments of my life. There is sandpaper in my throat, a familiar foreboding, an incomprehensible sense of loss and remorse.

Other times I literally have a word with my conscience, chastise myself for being so over dramatic and acknowledge the extraordinarily privileged position I am in with regards my career and the many benefits my situation provides me as a mother. I fully appreciate in some countries a fortnight is seen as the norm in terms of maternity leave and being my own boss means that I can literally drop everything at anytime if my daughter needs me. Or indeed if I simply need her.

I sincerely hope this piece doesn’t come across as dreary or makes anyone sad, that really wasn’t the intention. And I do understand it’s all rather self-indulgent. I am just facing up to the fact that I made some, at least to me, fairly significant mistakes. And that dwelling on them isn’t going to help anyone, least of all Mabel and I. The decisions we make at any point in time are exactly that – decisions we made because we were simply doing our best at that particular moment.  I firmly believe that the past should be left right there, and that it doesn’t necessarily have to have an impact on your future.

Am I not going to feel guilt about everything and anything ever again? Hardly, that comes with the territory as a parent as I’m sure you are all fully aware.

Thanks so much for reading. Here’s to a prosperous new year full of health, happiness, letting it go, moving on and looking forward towards a bright and adventure-filled 2016.

P.S I thought this header image would make you all laugh, because of course there are some moments when Mabel is an absolute terror and I’m glad she’s at nursery and I have some time to myself 🙂

Photography by Anna Clarke