I tend to start every blog with an apology. Usually that I haven’t written in a while. So here it is.
Since we last spoke, proud to say I am now the happy owner of a bubbly baby girl. She is a dream and the complete opposite (but at the same time remarkably similar) to her brother. As I write, she is 1 day off being 10 weeks old.
I’ll perhaps write another time about her entry into this world; but now I have two kiddos, I find myself becoming even more all consumed with their wellbeing. So much so that something major has happened from the first time around - rather than being 100% breastfed, I have taken the decision to combihnation feed M (her identity on this blog).
Why? Because this time around I am faced with a different pressure. Not that formula is wrong and breastfed babies are essentially the Kobe cows of the world, but more that I am finding that I am losing myself and I need for that not to happen. Fed is 100% best here.
So again, why am I telling you this? We are in a completely different world since I last breastfed. Post Brexit referendum. Post Trump becoming president. Post me discovering Cambozola cheese. But not just that. As I have come into motherhood for the second time, I am in a completely different headspace. Far more self assured in how I parent, yes more confident but with even less time for me (to the point I am sinking under all thi pressure). And its that last point that is vital for me here. I have less time for me.
As I am now on maternity leave, my job is in the home. Yes, my life is back in the 50’s where my role Is to ‘Rear and raise’ the children as I balance making dinners whilst having a boob out feeding M at the same time. Making sure the house is clean enough so that when the time health visitor comes around she doesn’t think I live in a sty as well as justify to the husband who works all week that I can “manage”. My job is looking after other people and things.
But if you also know me, you’ll be fully aware that I am an independent, tenacious (learnt that word from a 5th year school report) and strong willed mother fucker who does not want to fail. There is no room for failure. And a lot of the above expectations are built by myself and not anyone else. However, despite this - there is no room for failure (did I say that?).
This week, we were faced with a poorly N which resulted in him being off nursery for 3 days. 3 of my precious 4 I pay for for him to be fed and entertained for 10 hours a day. This threw me into a tailspin of losing even more me time to juggle two kids - one with a leaking perforated ear drum and one who can’t hold her head up. Long story short; it was the fastest long week of my life. I was exhausted. With the husband set to work Saturday too, I knew something had to give and that was what made it almost easy and guilt free to say that I needed help. This help would come in the form of Aptamil. One less pressure for me not to have to be around 24/7. One less feed to have to remember every 3 hrs and a little light at the tunnel that I will eventually get that me time (which could potentially fall during the day - shock horror).
While I’m not willing to close the boob store, it might work part time. As I write this, I am also vaguely aware that I may completely change my mind and the guilt I fed with N might just return. But that’s just how motherhood goes I guess - nothing I do will ever always be the right thing to do. In the meantime however, I need to do the right thing for me right now.
