What's happening to me?

Here I recall when everything went a bit weird, and why.

I was utterly convinced that I'd give birth and be one of those women who still looked pregnant, forever. I'm not lucky when it comes to how I look and I have to try quite hard to look nice so I was sure I'd probably quadruple in size in pregnancy and never revert to normal. You can, therefore, imagine my surprise and delight when my beautiful baby was born and I was back to my pre-pregnancy size. Not skinny, because I never was, but I hadn't quadrupled in size and I hadn't morphed into a weird Mr Blobby shaped version of myself. That was all I could have hoped for.

Unfortunately the delight at not being permanently huge was short lived because now I had to work out how to keep this little human alive. No plump faced, homely, warm smiled apparition of a fairy godmother appeared to tell me how on earth to do this so I had to work it out myself. Somehow, despite the lack of apparition, I managed. We bumped along together, Molly working out the world around her and me working out her.

When Molly was 5 months old I went back to work. After a few tears, at the thought of my baby wondering where I'd gone and me not being able to explain to her, I settled back into work with minimal upheaval. I likened that bit to the uncanny ability of a situation such as animals being lead into a truck to go to slaughter, or a dog to the vets, or a child for vaccinations to reduce me to tears without fail. I am just not programmed to deal with another person or animal thinking everything's ok and as it was, when it isn't. It really gets to me. This felt like that.

As we all adapted to our new regime I became less and less able to cope with everyday stuff, with life. I was putting on loads of weight, couldn't stay awake and could not stop crying. With the 'able' assistance of Google I managed to persuade myself I had postnatal depression. Or was it anaemia? I'm always anaemic. That makes me tired and cold. Not fat though. Shit, was I eating too much because I was cold and tired. Or was it postnatal depression? Depression, really? I've heard that can make you fat. But I am one of those people who don't believe in depression, for me anyway. I am not denying it in others. I just don't get depressed. I get on with stuff. It's what I do. Anyway, I wasn't right so I went to the doctors. Something else I never do. 

The NHS website will tell you that 'An underactive thyroid means your thyroid gland, located in the neck, does not produce enough hormones. Common signs of an underactive thyroid are tiredness, weight gain and feeling depressed.' Why did nobody tell me? Textbook broken thyroid. Phew. I had armed myself with every possible defence I could in case he tried to put me on anti-depressants but luckily he, being a doctor, was able to spot a very obvious textbook condition. The relief swelled up around me and washed away all my irrational fears that motherhood had somehow broken me. I could go back to working out how to help my baby to grow, to be happy and to discover the world around her, which was what I was trying to do when it all went weird.

Just over 2 years in and I am much better on medication which replaces the hormone that my thyroid gland can't be bothered to produce anymore. It needs tweaking from time to time because it is a hormone issue and the body is constantly chucking in curve balls to mess with the hormones therefore you can't assume that the levels of the drugs will stay correct. I still fall asleep a lot and get fat easily and, apparently, I am allowed to blame the Hypothyroidism but I have to make sure that I balance that with the effects of working too hard and eating too much. Other afflictions of mine.   

Dear Molly....

This is a letter for you to read when you're bigger and for me to look back on in years to come when little details of our lives may have faded from my memory. 

For a lot of years I didn't want a baby. I was busy with work and didn't feel grown up enough to look after a little person. Then one day, I did.

From the moment you existed to the present day you have been my insides, my everything. It feels like I gave birth to a part of me that I now have to keep safe because without it, I'd die. It might sound a bit dramatic but it's nature. Parents get swept away in a tidal wave of love. And that happened to me, with you.

Somehow you manage to make me laugh and cry with a perfect mixture of your wonderful, gentle nature and your very serious two and a half years of life experience. You might not still have her when you're reading this but now you have a comforter called Right Bunny (there was a Wrong Bunny once too) and you cuddle her when you're sad, tired or scared. We had a lovely chat together about her the other day. It went like this:

You: I want Right Bunny Mummy.

Me: When you're bigger you won't need Right Bunny so much.

You: But I could hug her with my big girl hands.

Me: Yes you could darling.

You: Now I will hug her in my little girl hands.

You understood the essence of growing up and you summarised it perfectly in your two and a half year old way.

You question everything and the amount you're learning amazes me every single day. The other day you recited the whole of your book 'I want my hat back' to me. You remembered more of it than I did and I read it a LOT! 

I love reading with you. When I read 'How to catch a star' you get sad for the little boy when he can't find a star and then you're delighted when he gets one of his very own. You wanted a star of your very own so I made you one out of foil and card. Now, whenever I finish the story, you proudly tell me that you have a star of your very own and that Mummy made it for you. I'm glad I could do that.

It upsets me when people close to me are hurt, scared or sad. That feeling has increased tenfold in relation to you but, more touchingly, I see that trait in you. You cry when other children cry. You get distressed when the penguin gets left on his own at the South Pole in 'Lost & Found' and you stroke him on the page. And when I am sad you rub my arm and say "don't worry Mummy". Your capacity to care and empathise is something I'm so proud of.

We like to sing You Are My Sunshine, Maybe Tomorrow (from the Littlest Hobo which was my favourite programme when I was little), Incy Wincy Spider and Twinkle Twinkle (you call it Binkle Binkle). Your singing is very sweet. I love that you can sing along with me to Baby Mine. A sweet reminder that I've sung it to you nearly every day since you were born.

I will never tire of your little face, your crazy curls, your high pitched voice, your constant chatter and your lovely nature. I feel like bursting with love for you every minute of every day.

None of this is unique and parents everywhere will feel exactly the same, I'm sure, but it is unique to me and I wanted to tell you.

Lots of love Mummy x

"Baby Mine" 

Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,
pay no heed what they say.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
never to tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,
they'd end up loving you too.
All those same people who scold you,
what they'd give just for the right to hold you.

From your head down to your toes,
you're not much, goodness knows.
But, your soul precious to me,
sweet as can be, baby of mine.

A Working Mummy

Sometimes I am made to feel guilty for working when my daughter is so little. Molly's only 2 and a half and she has already asked me why I go to work. When I tried to give her a befitting response she was more interested in showing me that "Molly made a triangle with fingers Mummy" When I asked if she was listening to me she replied "no thank you Mummy"

 

So here's why I work; for my baby girl to read when she's finished making triangles with her fingers.

 

Before Molly, I wanted a career for me. That's still the case but there is a new force driving me. My motivation now is to try to be the person that my little girl learns from and looks up to. I want her to want as much for herself as is possible and to know that she can control her direction in life. If the truth be told I want that for all the girls and women I know but I only have influence over Molly, and even that is relatively limited! 

Radio 4's Today programme recently dealt with an issue reported by the Women's Business Council that our girls are, seemingly, failing to get the decent jobs Girls seem to be aiming low, lacking in confidence and have no aspirations. They discussed businesses going into schools to make girls aware of what can be achieved and what is out there for them by way of opportunities. All of this is important, of course, but I can't help feeling that role models and guidance at home are the factors that will win through in terms of what the outcome will be for our girls.

 

Mothers feel guilty about working when their children are little. I felt guilty for a little while (Molly was 5 months old) and it was just nature and the separation thing going on. It subsided when we both adapted to our new routine. 

It's a hugely personal thing but working makes me happy. This happiness soaks into my relationship with Molly and enables me to be a better and more engaging Mum to her. It matters to me that she grows up thinking that it is normal for women to work, to achieve and to have an identity outside of the home. Being a Mum to me means being there when she needs me but also living my life in a way that one day I hope she will want to too. It's not about what I do but about making those choices for myself and being happy. I might add that if she wants to be a housewife then of course that's fine. I just want her to be the one to choose that direction for herself.

 

It's not for everyone, I get that, but this is about me and I don't feel guilty about working. Society subtly emanates this message, which gradually gets absorbed into our girls' psyches, that women's work is less important than men's, that men make the money and that Mums should be the ones to feel guilty for working. It's no one's fault. It's just the way it is. I hope that Molly will grow up with a different view. One which enables her to control her own future and be whatever and whoever she wants to be.

 

Listen to the Radio 4 discussion here:http://t.co/wgmRXUloDC

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