Mum before me?
In the winter of August 2018 at 38 weeks, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The tiniest version of my husband and I finally earthside. It was emotional. After hours on end, Melody Storm arrived. The intensity of labor instantly faded, nothing could take this moment from me. Unfortunately, the episiotomy was more of a lasting memory.
I allowed myself the new moments with my baby and just like that the fourth trimester was over. There were ups and downs but I was grateful she was healthy and thriving. I sat rocking her one day, we napped for the 100th time sitting up, and as I woke my newborn was 6 months old. From the moment she was halfway to one, I began planning how I could get myself back to work sooner.
The fear of losing my own identity set in as the reality of being responsible for another human being became my purpose. Still, I was sure, so sure, who I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be known as just Melody’s Mum, I was still- me.
I was 6 months pregnant when I finished my degree in Journalism. On one hand, I was so proud to have completed this course and in my other hand, I held my whole heart, my daughter. I graduated hoping to walk straight into this field of work, my career. I was never disappointed I had my daughter. I was only the uncertain of when I’d be able to establish myself in a career. How could I be so naive to think it would be so easy. I hoped before children I ‘d be settled into my career allowing me parental leave, security, and financial stability, away from my husband’s income. Work had always been a huge part of my purpose and identity.
I persevered. Melody would spend one day a week with her Grandparents, I began sleep training her and timed my breast pumps accordingly. The goal was to have her social and create bonds with those, I didn’t get a chance to cherish growing up. This would also mean I could leave her and she’d happily wave good-bye to me. 6 months postpartum, I was at work one day a week continuing my job as a Personal Trainer then eventually managing my small cleaning business. That one day a week, knowing my daughter was safe and loved, I was giving back to the person I was before I had her, then eventually more and more days. Figuring out my own work-life balance I decided heading back to any form of work is what would be best.
We had made it. Happy 1st birthday Melody and happy one year to me as a mum. I broke the bond of breastfeeding after 13 months and woke up, suddenly, to a toddler and another chance to work at my career. I ran two small businesses that I loved but were irrelevant to the field I wanted to end up in and they offered no prospects of any financial stability. I wasn’t concerned about how often I went to the hairdressers, how many girls nights out I had or the mornings I’d spend sleeping in. Instead, I was concerned about being able to contribute a stable income to my family. This is what I needed to be doing to convince myself I still had my own identity and ultimately succeeding as a mum and life partner.
This self inflicted pressure would intensify!
Fast forward another 12 months, many more milestones and a painful pandemic, Melody is weeks away from her second birthday. I sit on social media being the envy of all the other mothers out there with children the same age as mine, continuing with their careers and be amazing parents as well.
So admittingly 2 years post partum and I’ve just replaced the last parent who stood between a rock and hard place. Where do I go from here? Do I put her in fulltime childcare knowing I’d lose most of my income to childcare fees but still pursue a career or be with my baby for she will only be this little once?
Why are we so harsh on ourselves?
The oracle I once was, would have told myself, now is the time to take advantage of her turning 2, becoming independent, and hit the ground running into a career. Except I know what those words would mean for me. It would take, counting down the hours through the day until she goes to bed so I could focus on my work, I would sabotage every moment no matter how magical to keep her naps on time and there I would be again strapping the cinderblocks to my ankle and drowning in my guilt of, wanting to work but not wanting to be away from her.
I know I’m not the only parent who has dived into these depths and I know I won’t be the last. Sometimes it makes me wonder. At the time, before children, I was doing what I needed to, to survive but was there a way I could have tamed my hustle sooner? It would have made my parental life so much more foreseeable.
My daughter will never know any different. She will remember the clean clothes, the roof over her head, the food on the table, and the love she receives from her parents and every bond she forms away from her Mum and Dad. Yet, I still fear to lose who I am if I don’t establish myself in a career NOW! The small amount of work I have at the moment may succumb to the full effect of this pandemic, another uncertainty and another piece of me lost.
I think of the possibilities a two-income household could do to empower our family. Some will read this and vote for the ideologies pre mum life had for me because they’ve discovered the portals, which lead them to a perfect work/career/mum/dad life balance and an equal financial contributor to the household. Those same people will tell me how rewarding, fulfilling, and how this balance makes them the best parent they can be. Others would sway the other and wish they could have stayed home with their babies longer or at all but they didn’t have a choice. They will tell me all they missed out on so many moments and memories because they couldn’t have the balance.
So here I am another night of stargazing and wandering. How can I do it all without taking away from my daughter, disrupting my husband’s career and being all I ever wanted to be in my home life and work life. #SOS