By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT
An experience I will never, ever forget.
I was a new mum. My baby was five weeks old. I looked like a mother, wandering around with birds-nest hair and a 1000-yard stare, holding an infant. But I didn’t feel like a mother.
I felt like a fraud. I felt like I was the only person alive who was deeply, deeply confused about what to do with this tiny person who had been recklessly placed in my care.
I was also madly in love. And just like in other love affairs before this, I couldn’t understand why the object of my affections would treat me so bad.
Keeping me awake, yes, but also keeping me guessing in pretty much every regard – why won’t she eat when I think she should eat? Why won’t she fill her nappies on command from the baby book? Why does she cry, and cry and cry when I just love her so? And so on. The minutae of new motherhood is exhausting, and incomprehensible to anyone on the outside.
Just as an FYI, this post is sponsored by Omo Ultimate. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100 per cent authentic and written in their own words.
Taking myself and my tiny tyrant out of our bubble and into an Early Childhood Centre for a gathering of new mums took every ounce of will and courage I could muster. It is very hard to look back and understand why it’s so hard for new mums to get out of the house, but it just is. Especially to a deadline. Especially when you know other people will be looking at you. And your baby.
But with some tears and drama, out of the house we did go. And taking my place on that circle of plastic chairs changed my life.