Motherhood: Surviving Or Thriving?

I’ve previously blogged about the emotions that all hit me at one year postpartum. The milestone was overwhelming to say the least, and it caused me to take some time to reflect on my motherhood journey as a first time mum, in a pandemic.

If I had to pick between thriving or surviving, the latter would, by far, better describe my first year as a mother. I don’t want this blog to be doom and gloom, or scary for any mums-to-be reading, but I want it to be an honest and open account of my reality as a first time mum this past year.

My initial observation is that I’ve not been the mother I’d planned and imagined I would be at all. And this isn’t actually a bad thing. I quickly realised that my motherhood journey was far more instinctual and baby led than the organised, by-the-book, type-A person I knew myself to be before Oscar arrived. I imaged my baby would easily fit into my life and just occupy the free time I had, but I’d feel fully supported and still be able to do everything I loved doing in my life as it was, with little or no transition period. But from the second Oscar was born I was on his schedule, I was his everything, doing exactly what he needed when he needed it; whilst simultaneously doubting if what I was doing was the right thing. It was all-consuming from the get go, demanding but also rewarding.  

As a first time mum everything was new, each day I was learning, surviving, and occasionally thriving. The smallest things became huge accomplishments – being dressed before midday was sometimes my only notable achievement, and leaving the house for doctor’s appointments on time felt monumental. Looking back I should also give myself props for keeping a tiny human alive too, doing that 24/7 (largely single handed having only had a week to share things with my partner before his paternity leave ended), is no mean feat.

I fed on demand for the majority of the year, and worked with Oscar’s sleep pattern (or lack of) rather than attempting to put us into routine. Don’t get me wrong I craved even an ounce of routine from about 8 weeks, and tried a few methods that worked for my mum-friends but to no avail. I wanted a predictable bedtime for him, a consistent start to the day, the ability to know I’d be at appointments on time no matter when they were in the day.

But alas, the reality was that I followed Oscar’s lead and my world revolved around meeting his every need, when it happened. I don’t feel guilty for this, and I don’t think I should have done it any other way. I see it as my natural and normal way of mothering – to meet my baby’s needs first. It worked for us for the most part, and even if I felt like I was just surviving, as the months went on it was clear Oscar at least was thriving!

I am, however, a little jealous. I see other mums who jumped into schedules and sleeping patterns early on, and mums with different feeding methods who never had to guess or hope their baby was getting enough because it was written on the side of the bottle, and the mums that were successfully breastfeeding pain free from the first few weeks. And then there were the mums that have had partners who took longer paternity leave to better share the care in the first weeks and months, and mums that had babies that slept through the night, never regressed and never rejected a dummy.

They all seem to have benefitted and had an enviable motherhood journey compared to mine. But I know each mother will have had her own lows as well as the highs I’ve seen, and I know every mother struggles at some point – and it is this that unites us and enables us to support each other.

And what’s more, I survived just fine without being a mum like them.

Being mindful that it won’t take over my motherhood story here (which quite frankly it has in real life), the global pandemic in which Oscar was born into did not help at all. It might have given me less pressure to go out as there was nowhere to actually go, but it took away far more.

The opportunity to meet new mums, talk to new mums, and even just exchange knowing smiles with new mums from across a café or park. I’ve survived (just about) without the support of that new-mother-network that should have been there to embrace me physically daily.

I survived without seeing all my existing mum-friends for their expert advice given in person, their ability to show me there is light at the end of the tunnel as they demonstrate in person how there will be a time when I will be able to make my own cup of tea and feed my baby and feel like a total boss. (I’m pleased to say there have indeed been magical mornings when I’ve got myself and Oscar ready for the day including cooked breakfasts and time to play all before 9am – which I remember thinking would never happen back in the throes of the first few months).

 On reflection I can see now that in meeting Oscar’s every need when he needed me I was often not meeting my own needs. I did manage to shower and wash my hair every single day since he was born, but sometimes other basic needs, like sleep, weren’t met until I took drastic action. For example I hired a wonderful sleep consultant at 8 months to ensure I could get the rest I needed to be a functioning human again as a priority.

To be honest, I’ve really struggled to even register what my needs are let alone being able to actually meet them – and even a year on, I still don’t really know what needs of mine I should be prioritising, and I’ll leave ‘mum-guilt’ to cover another day, but trust me that’s real too!

 Being a mother is exhausting and relentless. Far more exhausting and relentless than I expected, and far more than I could have ever prepared myself for. I’ve cried a lot more in the past year than I expected too. Due to severe sleep deprivation, hormonal changes, the physical recovery after birth, and the sheer level of responsibility I found myself shouldering really added up.

It really is no wonder mothers cry, and for me it felt (and still feels) overwhelming on a very regular basis. In fact, it was often so overwhelming it’s been a regular thought that I’m not cut out to be a mother, and that it’s just all too much. I’ve had to work hard to maintain perspective and remember that I’m finding it difficult because it IS hard, not because I’m not good enough.

Every day has thrown new challenges as well as multiple decisions, and this has been a particularly hard part of being a mother. The responsibility of decision making is exhausting - my brain can go through these questions all before 9am: Is he awake? Why is he awake? Has he slept enough? Should I wake him? Is he hungry? How much has he eaten? When is the next nap? When is the next feed? What should I feed him? When did he last poo? What should he wear? Will he be too hot/cold? What’s the weather going to be like? Shall I pack a change of clothes?... I could go on and on.

And the questions don’t stop there, even when people try and help they inevitably ask a million questions because they want to get it right for you and your baby, but still having to make the decisions means the mental load never really leaves you as a mum. I often feel like I might as well just be doing it myself to save me having to answer and decide more things. Oh and of course there are all the other decisions in life still to make in a day; Do we have milk? Should I go to the shop? What shall I make for dinner? Did we pay that bill? Is there petrol in the car? Did I put the bins out last night? The mental exhaustion as a mother is like no other.

 It’s been hard, and I’m aware I’ve had a lot to deal with on top of the expected new born and new mum stuff too. And because of that I should be gentle on myself and forgiving.

I’ve shown up, every day, and every long night.

I’ve always done my best, and yes, some days that’s looked better than others, but that’s ok.

Don’t get me wrong, I know we’ve had moments of thriving. Oscar has been a happy and healthy baby, hitting every milestone and even jumping up weight percentile lines after a rocky start. We’ve also mastered breastfeeding and have been able to continue past the one year mark (which only 0.5% of women in UK do). Oscar has learnt a few baby sign language words and is starting to communicate effectively, he loves water and swimming lessons, and this week has got the hang of the shape sorter toy. I’m really incredibly proud of him, and the parenting it has taken to achieve these things. I’ve had amazing days (and the odd night) with him that I wouldn’t change for the world.

 I’ve survived this past year shedding completely the person I was, as well as the idea of the mother I expected to be.

I’ve survived even though I’ve not really spent the time looking closer at the new person I’ve become and I hope the next year will give me that space I need to explore who I am as a mother.

But whether I have just survived or thrived my first year as a mum, what I know for certain is that I am loved. I’ve never been so loved, or loved like this ever before – and that makes me feel like a winner.

So here is to surviving the next year, and a future with more thriving, and a continued love like no other.

How have you survived and thrived your first year of motherhood?