Three months of motherhood

Well, well, well. Back in July, I thought I’d never make it here. I still remember the days when crying and meltdowns were my daily ritual, and the longest stretch of sleep I ever got during the night was a measly 2.5 hours. In those days, it was hard to believe that life could ever get better. To my amazement, it has. Last night, in fact, the little bub broke his record and slept for 8.5 hours straight. Oh, sleep, how I adore you.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s still hard. Time does not fly by for me like it apparently does for many mums. Even now, I spend my days wishing my baby boy would grow up faster. Because as much as I love him—and I’m going to be shot for saying this—I do not enjoy being a mother. At least not right now.

Perhaps it’s also because the Covid has prevented my family from visiting, but my days with the little one have been dreadfully lonely.

This societal expectation that women should enjoy mothering is absurd. Before the baby, my life was filled with intellectually stimulating activities: lawyering, writing, coding. The most thinking I do these days is working out his wake windows and next feeding time.

I miss adult interactions. I miss going out for fancy dates and dinners. I miss holidays and staycations. I miss freedom. And unfortunately, these are now luxuries I can no longer have in the coming months. Or years, even. It also didn't help that all our plans of easing into parenthood (enjoying those nice cinema dates and a last babymoon holiday) during my third trimester went straight to the bin along with lockdowns.

I am honestly impressed by all the mothers who actually find their life with babies rewarding and fulfilling. Maybe I’ll get there someday as my baby grows?

And what about dads? Why aren’t they the ones that people expect to stay home, caring for the baby all day long and attending parenting groups? For now, I'm just glad that I'm not alone in the way I feel.

Despite sounding like a negative Nancy, I am still eternally grateful that I have a healthy, happy baby, and his feeding and sleeping have finally, sort of, fallen into a routine (here's to hoping I don't jinx myself). At long last, I feel like a semi-functioning human again. A human with too little 'me time', but I'll take what I can get. Fingers crossed, this continues. Toes crossed, the four-month sleep regression doesn't hit our household.

And I must hastily conclude this post, as that little guy has just woken from his nap earlier than I’d like! Hmph.


  1. I think it's a natural feeling to have, to not necessarily love the baby time. Or well… any of the times. But it's such a taboo thing to admit, for some reason. Do I love my kid? Absolutely. Do I love that she wakes every morning at 4 o'clock and spends the next 2 hours in my bed (or awake) meaning I can't properly sleep? Heck no! Do I love that I can no longer have a lazy day binge-watching Netflix or reading a book in one sitting? Definitely not.

    And yet, some people seem to think that any complaint, any mention of missing certain things about the "old life" is tantamount to saying we don't love our kids or wish we didn't have them. Mother's aren't allowed to complain. And it's bullshit. Being a mum is so effing hard. And it's lonely. Especially in Covid times. I thought it was lonely pre-covid with a baby, I can't imagine how tough it must have been in lockdown. I've found lockdown hard with a toddler, but baby period is worse. You need support. You need to see other people. You need to be able to shove the baby at someone else for 15 minutes so you can have a breather.

    In any case… congratulations on the 8,5 hour sleep! Woohoo! Fingers crossed it lasts!

    • Yay a fellow mummy who understands! It is so isolating being stuck with a baby all the time, made worse by the fact that there are very few I can vent to about it. I can’t wait until he can talk to me, though I’m guessing the talking back becomes a challenge in itself too! 😂

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