Who is she? That women who walked around without a care. That woman who had clean clothes and washed hair.
Who is she? That woman who could sleep all night then all day, then do whatever she fancied. That woman who worked hard, so she could go nice places and do nice things.
Who is she? That woman who did her hair and make up. Who wore nice clothes with confidence. Who is that woman who knew her worth and loved herself?
I don’t know that woman anymore.
That woman was replaced by a mother. A mother who stresses leaving the house ensuring that the TinyHuman has everything he could possibly need, but forgets her phone and her purse. A mother who’s wearing the same clothes she has been for the last three days, she’s done his laundry but forgotten her own.
That woman was replaced by a mother who is lucky to get five hours sleep a night. A mother who feeds the baby, and makes the Man his lunch for work but doesn’t realise she hasn’t eaten and is starving until 8pm when he asks what she wants to eat.
That woman was replaced by a mother who couldn’t tell you where her hair brush is and hasn’t touched her make up bag since pre-birth. A mother who doesn’t fit into any of her pre-pregnancy clothes and spends every morning having a Grinch-Style fashion show (meltdown) in the mirror, “that’s it! I’m not going!”.
That woman was replaced by a mother who knows that when people ask how things are going, they’re really just asking about the baby. A woman who is buried under her need to be a good mother and fiancé, who often finds herself neglected and at the bottom of the pile.
Post natal depression is one of those things that hits me like a train. One minute I am fine, absolutely loving my life. The next every minute is a struggle. If I can’t settle the TinyHuman instantly, I must be a sh*t mum. If the Man comes home and the house isn’t tidy (not that he gives a flying f…) then I must be a sh*t partner too. If I don’t fit into my pre-baby clothes then he won’t be attracted to me. If I reach out for support then I’m a sh*t Mum who can’t cope.
I am my biggest critic. However, I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by the most beautiful network of people. The TinyHuman doesn’t care if I’m still wearing pyjamas by dinner time, he just wants the comfort of his Mummy when he’s not feeling well. The Man doesn’t care if the house is spotless, so long as everyone is healthy and happy. He doesn’t care if I don’t fit in my old clothes, I carried our baby in this body and therefore we should cherish and worship it. If I reach out for support, then I’m acknowledging and accepting that I’m struggling, and allowing people to help for the benefit of my child.
It’s incredibly important to remember that prior to being a mother or a partner, or anything in life, you were a person. There is more to me than being the TinyHuman’s Mummy, or the Man’s fiancé. Before I was those things, I was me.
So take time, step away from those things and back towards yourself. I take my TinyHuman and Man free time as an opportunity to create art, get my nails done, see friends, or practise some self care. It’s the little things that push me from going over the edge.
We must ensure that we are supporting each other. Check on your Mummy friends. What do they need? What can you do to help?
As always, if you are in need of support but are unsure where to look, you can find some links that I have found useful here.
