It's coming up a year since Charlie was born. A fresh glorious bundle, we brought him home from hospital right around the full moon. I know this well as I would stare up at that shining maiden each night and plead with her to help me feed my baby. Somehow calling on the wisdom of women who had come and gone before. I would sit cross-legged on the window seat cradling his little body, bathed in cool moonlight while I wrestled with the pain of breastfeeding. Charlie would fix his eyes on that silver ball in the sky and I would suck in my breath and grit my teeth. She was a calming source for us both, a constant.
We got off to a bloody rough start on the feeding front. I never expected that, just thought like many women that it would happen naturally. Well shit a brick, having your first baby is a shock to the system. Looking back now, who knows whether I would have persevered with breastfeeding the same. I do love it now. But for a good six weeks I was consumed by it, and this along with a lack of sleep undoubtedly set the ball rolling for a dive in mental health later on.
The more I get to know about mothering, the less time I have for judgment. Judgment of self, judgment of others. Baby sleeping in bed with you? Same here. Started out with cloth nappies and now using disposables? Great option. Still wearing maternity jeans one year in? Classy. Driving on the farm whilst breastfeeding? Go you. Haven’t showered in three days? Nice. Need a glass of wine? Go for it. Do what you gotta do girlfriend.
Before having a bubba, boy did I have some expectations of myself. And let me tell you, I could set that bar high. I’m one of those bossy eldest child types, the kind who is an infuriating overachiever, tries to fix everyone’s problems and has an obsession with arm-length lists. Let’s be honest, the bloody annoying type.
I found an old To Do list I wrote the other day and actually laughed out loud. It was a plan for the day’s requirements and honestly would have taken two weeks for Wonder Woman to complete. Why the hell do we do that to ourselves?! I suppose it stems from a feeling of never being good enough, and then at the end of the day when surprise surprise the list is incomplete, the cycle begins again. Well bugger the lists. These days I use them to bolster my goldfish memory.
Charlie had his first ear infection last night. He woke, screaming and tossing his head, soon after going to sleep. We got up and made the familiar resigned midnight trudge down the hallway to the sitting room. Somehow things seem better there – the fire is cranking, the sofa padded with cushions, the kettle chocka and waiting to whistle. If we’re going to be up in the middle of the night, we might as well do it in style. After spending a fun night up on the hourly, we spent the remainder of the day sitting in Ashburton AAU. One dear little fella was seen by the medical angels and is now a much happier wee chap with meds on board. A memorable Matariki. Zero items ticked off a list. Personal diet consisted of four coffees, a sausage roll and a vitamin C tablet as a token gesture of effort. Nailing personal wellbeing.
Matariki is appropriately a time to reflect on the past year.
I look back on this year with a full tum of pride and Love for myself. We hear a lot about the birth of a baby, but the birth of a mother is life-changing. In fact, the process of becoming a Mum even has a name – Matrescence. It’s the oldest story in the book and yet nothing can prepare you for it. I’ve found it to be a profoundly humbling experience so far, full of learnings and un-learnings, elation and exhaustion, and a damn good support crew.
I am so blessed to be Charlie’s Mum.