Diary of a Working Mum

Becoming a mother for the first time, I was prepared for the sleepless nights, the constant nappy changes and the tangled mess of emotions that I would be. However, nothing, and I repeat nothing, could have prepared me for the emotional weight of my baby’s cries.

For me, that relentless, piercing sound became the only thing that has ever had the power to bring me to my knees. It obliterated every shred of logic I had ever possessed. Without a doubt, it was the hardest part of early motherhood.

People ask me why this affected me so badly. Looking back now, I can clearly see the reason. That reason is simple. I did not know what my baby wanted, or needed. Every cry felt like a puzzle that I could not solve fast enough. My mind was battered with theories, and none of them seemed to be right. Was she hungry? Tired? In pain? Was she overstimulated? Or did she need a cuddle? The longer the crying persisted, the more my ability to be rational diminished.

In the really dark times, when I had no more tears left to cry, I resorted to the only relief I could find. I would avoid going home, or tell my partner I had to go to the shop. I would sit in the car, eyes red and swollen from crying. I wanted so badly to go and cuddle my daughter, but wanted so badly to escape her cries. Sometimes I would scroll social media mindlessly, as if the answer was to be found in the endless funny dog videos. Other times I would stare blankly out the window for hours, not thinking about anything. My mind would get to such an anxious and distressed state, that it lost the ability to think about anything. It was just a thick, dark fog inside my head. I later found out that this is actually a trauma response. It is one method that the brain uses to try and protect itself.

Looking back now, the newborn days caused me to feel inadequate. The parenting pages I followed on social media, all of the magazines I had read and everyone I had spoken to, all reassured me that I would intuitively know what my baby needed. They said it was a mothers ‘gut instinct’. I was weighed down and exhausted by the belief that I had not been blessed with a mothers intuition. I had absolutely no idea what my baby needed. I tried everything, from swaddling and bicycle legs, to feeding and cuddling. Sometimes, my best efforts only increased my baby’s unhappiness.

I dreaded visits from the health visitor. I tried desperately to hide how dark my world felt and how severe my anxiety had become. You can see the blood on my thumb in the picture below, caused by my constant skin picking to try and cope with the anxiety. The only thing I was confident in was the love I have for my baby. Hugging, kissing and bonding with my baby always came naturally, and in those moments, everything seemed brighter and I could see light at the end of the tunnel .

However, that light would shut off in a flash as soon as my baby cried. Suddenly, there was no hope. My heart would start to race frantically, every muscle in my body would tighten up and I would be gasping for breath. I had gotten myself into such a state that each time my baby cried, I would carry out an irrational, scattered routine of checking when her last feed was, when her last poo was and when her last nappy change was. Despite me writing these things down, in the moment of sheer panic, I could never locate them. Realising that my efforts to work out why she was crying were fruitless, I would start to cry myself.

Let me know if you can relate!

Cheerio

E x