'I took a "baby-free-moon" 2 hours from Sydney and every parent needs to do this immediately.'

When I was waiting to give birth to my second baby, all I could think about was my babymoon.

I just needed a little break from my toddler. Just a tiny one. A little respite before the new baby came into the picture and turned everything upside down, again, even though (as aforementioned) we already had a toddler and nothing had actually been right-side-up since before he was born.

Watch: Here's some advice to try tackle those toddler tantrums.

I was absolutely fixated on my babymoon, which I'd booked at Bannisters Port Stephens. I was looking at 48 hours (minimum) of reading, poolside coffees and floating aimlessly in the infinity pool. I simply couldn't wait.

As luck would have it, I had to cancel my babymoon. And because babies work on a bit of a tight timeline, it wasn't possible to reschedule before my younger son came busting into the world. But I refused to let my dreams go completely, and so I promised myself that when the time came, and I was able to leave my new baby for a weekend, I'd book another trip: a baby-free-moon, if you will.

Fast-forward a year (oh my god, how has it been a YEAR), and I've just returned home from my baby-free-moon. It was absolutely everything I needed — and what's more, I was so glad I waited until I wasn't pregnant anymore to take it.

If a babymoon is the last holiday a couple takes before their baby comes along, then I'm coining "baby-free-moon" as the term for the first solo holiday a new mum gets after that baby is born. It's the antidote to sleepless nights, being attached at the hip to an adorable drool-machine, and having to drink cold coffee for months on end.

Even better? I wrangled another new mum friend for her first weekend away from her one-year-old, too.

What was on the agenda, I hear you ask? Well, we started with a road trip where nobody was strapped into a car seat and Toot Toot Chugga Chugga was played a grand total of zero times. Yes, that's right — I was back in control of the stereo.

When we arrived, we were greeted with a glass of sparkling, which was fantastic news because I didn't have to drive anywhere or breastfeed anyone. We parked by the pool, ordered a coconut margarita and settled in with a book with not a single picture in it.

Enjoying my pool-side coconut maragrita. Image: supplied.

Next on the agenda was a massage at Spa Bannisters. I am, of course, frequently massaged at home (if you call a one-year-old pinching the skin of your upper arms so hard he leaves little bruises in his wake a massage), but this was truly something else: I fell asleep at least four times and awoke with a snore each time. On the one hand, was it one of the most humiliating things that has ever happened to me? Yes. But on the other hand, was I so deeply relaxed that I transcended to a new plane where I ceased to care about the opinions of others? Also yes.

Over the course of the weekend, we walked along the beach in silence (without prams), swam in an infinity pool (with nary a swim nappy in sight), and took baths (which didn't smell like Gro-To). We slept in a bed with no small children in it and woke up to the sound of birdsong. No, not a toddler doing an impression of a cockatoo! Actual birdsong!

The gorgeous infinity pool we could not get enough of. Image: supplied.

It was bliss, and I arrived home feeling like a completely new person. Texting my friend that night, I tried to describe the feeling: "You know how I've spent the whole year feeling like I was kind of at the end of my tether? I feel like I finally have some tether left."

Feeling spa-level fresh and clean. Image: supplied.

Of course, like any evangelical convert to a new religion, I now can't stop telling other parents that they need to take a trip to Port Stephens of their own. In a cost of living crisis, the prospect of splurging on a solo holiday might seem daunting, but I was pleasantly surprised at how economical a night away can be when you drive there, rather than fly. Honestly, even driving up the road would probably feel like a tropical holiday if you went there alone, but Port Stephens is a genuinely beautiful part of the world, complete with turquoise water, white sand, adorable beachside cafés and cute little shops. I'd consider moving there, except then I'd have to bring my kids, and with full disclosure I feel like that might ruin some of the magic.

So please, I beg you: let this be your sign to book your own baby-free-moon (full permission to call it this regardless of the age of your children - I won't judge).

And if you still need more convincing? Let's just say I ate a whole buffet breakfast and didn't have to share with any sticky little hands.

Yeah, just let that sink in.

You can thank me later.