I find it hard to switch off at the best of times. But in the late stages of pregnancy, the nesting instinct hit.
Hard.
Despite the fact that I was tired and stressed, had higher blood pressure and resembled a blimp, I continued to clean. Sort. Tidy. Arrange.
And everyone would tell me to relax. 'Relax now, while you can. Soon you'll have two. Put your feet up.'
Now, people still tell me to relax when I can. 'You rarely never get moments to yourself. Enjoy them. Have a cuppa. Read (three chapters of) a book.'
Sure thing. There's just one problem.
IT'S NOT THAT EASY!
If something needs doing, I can't help myself. It has to be done. If you tell me to 'relax', all you're doing is adding something to the bottom of my to-do list.
Do the dishes. Check.
Do a load of washing. Check.
Tidy Ashleigh's room. Check.
Do another load of washing. Check.
Chop vegies for dinner. Check.
Do yet another load of washing. Check.
'Relax'. Okay. For how long? Is this long enough? Great. Check.
'Relaxing' doesn't stop work needing to be done. It doesn't clean the house. It doesn't cook dinner.
It doesn't stop my mind flying at a million miles an hour.
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Back in ye olde corporate days, I would often work late. If my boss's boss saw me in the office after a certain time, he'd invariably come over to my desk and tell me to go home.
Don't get me wrong. It's lovely that he cared, and that he didn't want my work/life balance to be a work/more work/a bit of life balance.
But the above points apply to the work environment as well.
Being told to go home doesn't stop the work needing to be done. It doesn't create marketing plans. It doesn't analyse seminar feedback. It doesn't write reports. It doesn't send draft communications to the legal team for approval.
It doesn't stop my mind flying at a million miles an hour.
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So, while I appreciate the sentiment, it won't work. If you come over to my house and see me tidying, cleaning, preparing dinner or otherwise just busily DOING, don't tell me to stop.
Talk to me as I get on with it. Or, if you really want me to stop, pitch in. Or take over. So I can move on to the next thing.
Or run the bath, add some bubbles, pick me up, throw me in the bathroom and lock the door. Bonus points if you put a new book in there too. And some chocolate, of course.
Just don't forget to keep up with the DOING while I'm in the tub, relaxing. Or I'll be in the tub, stressing.
With my mind flying at a million miles an hour.
Can you switch off when there are things that need to be done?
I find myself more relaxed with baby number two.
Some things are more difficult - balancing the needs of a baby and a toddler and not being able to nap during the day to name two - but generally, I'm more relaxed this time around.
I'm not paranoid about dropping Mitchell like I was with Ashleigh. I'm more comfortable holding him. When he cries, I don't panic; I just work through the probable causes until we find the solution. I don't spend quite as much time (over-)analysing his every sound and movement. I just enjoy them.
But some things haven't changed. Including my ability to hear him crying any time - ALL the time - even when he isn't.
On a scale of 'obvious' to 'how on earth can you mistake that sound for your baby?!', here is a list of just some of the noises that have convinced me my youngest child is crying:
- another baby crying (visitors, radio, television)
- a toddler tantrum
- an animal outside whining
- the squeal of tram brakes
- the siren of an ambulance
- the screech of power tools (handy when you're renovating!)
- the exhaust fan in the bathroom (if you're looking to save water by cutting down your shower time, have a baby - it's much more effective than an egg timer)
- laughter
- total and complete silence
So, pretty much any noise will have me holding the sound monitor to my ear, hovering outside his door, or, occasionally, barging straight in and waking up my poor little boy.
And silence? How did that make the list?
Sometimes I wake at night and am convinced I can hear him. I strain my ears, and in my head I resemble the BFG, swivelling and flattening his giant ears like satellite dishes to improve his already impressive hearing ability.
The worst part is that once I've done this, even if I can't hear anything, I'm wide awake.
And it's difficult to get back to sleep with satellite dishes for ears.
Do/Did you mistake other sounds for the cries of your child(ren)?
You wake up. It's 6.00am.
You can't hear your baby crying. He's still asleep.
You can't hear your toddler playing. She's still asleep.
You can hear your husband breathing regularly. Inhale, exhale. He's still asleep.
You think you should get up and have a shower. Start the day clean and refreshed before the chaos erupts.
But it's so nice in bed. Even if you're awake. It's nice under the covers, with your toes toasty, your head against the pillow, and the warmth of your husband beside you.
The hardest part of the morning routine. It's not trudging to bub's room. Your daughter's room. The bathroom. The kitchen.
It's not trying to find clothes that fit. It's not trying to find clothes that are clean. It's not trying to find clothes that are dry.
It's not trying to remember what day it is. It's not trying to remember what you've got on that day.
It's throwing the covers back.
That's it. That's all it is.
Throwing the covers back.
Once you've done that, everything follows. You're on autopilot. You swing your feet around to the floor. You get up. You shower (if you have time). You unload the dishwasher. You get things ready for breakfast.
The day flows from there, and you switch autopilot off. You start to enjoy it. You feed, burp and cuddle your bub. You hug your toddler and play Memory for the zillionth time, 'letting' her win.
(Seriously, I can't win. Even after a good night's sleep. Even though two of the cards are bent so I always know where the puppy dog and the rubber duck are. It's infuriating.)
Everything follows.
But throwing back the covers. When you're in bed, snuggled under the covers and (day?)dreaming of sleep, man, oh man, is it difficult.
Until you hear that first cry. And you think to yourself, why, oh why, didn't I get up and shower when I had the chance?!
What's the hardest part of the morning routine for you?
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I can't settle Mitchell quickly.
I'm sorry he likes to be held. I'm sorry I can't do as much with Ashleigh when I'm holding him.
I'm sorry I use the pram to settle him as much as I do. I'm sorry he's not learning to sleep in the cot.
I'm sorry he cries a lot. I'm sorry I don't always know why. I'm sorry I can't make him feel better. I'm sorry my heart breaks a little more every time I see that bottom lip tremble and know he's about to unleash the cry that pierces my skin.
I'm sorry I can't give Ashleigh the attention I used to. I'm sorry that I can't even give her half the attention I used to.
I'm sorry I don't give Mitchell the attention I gave Ashleigh at this stage. I'm sorry that I can't even give him half the attention she used to get.
I'm sorry I'm missing one-on-one opportunities with Ashleigh. I'm sorry the words she hears most often from me are shhhhh, not today, I just need to feed Mitchell, sorry sweetie, Mitchell's sleeping, and we have to stay home. I'm sorry our relationship seems to be suffering. I'm sorry she prefers to spend time with other people than with me.
I'm sorry I'm so tired. I'm sorry my temper is so short. I'm sorry I burst into tears at the slightest provocation.
I'm sorry I can't cook a varied, healthy and interesting range of foods for us all to eat as a family. I'm sorry I've neglected the washing recently. I'm sorry the floor is dirty, the house is messy, and the beds aren't made.
I'm sorry I want my husband to leave later in the mornings. I'm sorry I want him home earlier at nights.
I'm sorry I expect so much of him. I'm sorry I expect so much of myself.
I'm sorry I'm sorry. I'm sorry I cave in to the mother guilt I load upon myself.
I'm sorry I'm nervous about hitting 'publish' on this post. I'm sorry it's been sitting in my drafts folder for a month. I'm sorry I'm embarrassed to be seen to be struggling sometimes.
I'm sorry I can't be the 'perfect' mother I seem to expect myself to be.
I'm sorry.
Quick note: I'm okay. These are thoughts I've had since Mitchell was born - usually it's one or two at a time. Rarely (but sometimes) do I have them all at once! And as I wrote above, I've been sitting on this post for a month, and things are getting better all the time (thanks to The Beatles for the earworm).
I publish this post not in a bid to seek sympathy, but to show what it can be like when we bring a newborn home. It is difficult. It is exhausting. But there's often an unacknowledged expectation that you'll not only cope, but cope well, and simply glow with the love and pride you feel for your newborn.
I am glowing with love and pride. For my newborn, my toddler, my husband and our little family. But sometimes it's buried beneath layers of guilt, doubts and second-guessing.
Enough of that. Any tips on settling a bub down for a nap during the day? One who settles down well enough after feeds at night but just doesn't seem to want sleep between 8am and 8pm unless he's in the pram or the car seat, or snuggled against your chest?
