THERAPY

I’m shamelessly indulging in something akin to therapy by writing this.

Imagine me on the sofa and you in the chair.  With the benefit of a year, I’ve come to you to talk (write) out the change of the last year.  I’m paying you good money so poise your pen and put your best listening face on. J

Before Elias I had what I now describe as a very ‘teenage-girl’ like mentality towards having a baby.  I did not believe that a child would really alter anything in my life. Like a Furby, a Tamogochi, or a new pet, a baby would be an entertaining add-on to my busy life.  I planned to either start a donut business or do a couple of extra A levels with all my spare time on mat leave.  Even during my labour, I kept asking Zane to ‘TELL ME ABOUT CHRISTMAS DAY!’ I genuinely experienced some sort of pain relief by imagining how glorious Christmas day with a new born would be.  Ha.

We weren’t going to turn down dinner invites; we would be a travel-cot family.

Anyone who has had a baby will be chuckling with me about how naïve I was at this stage and predicting the inevitable crash that was about to happen.  Think double decker bus colliding with a bridge and you’re nearly there.

I came home from the hospital and spent most of the first two nights awake and crying. He just wouldn’t sleep, my nipples were bleeding and I couldn’t move from the caesarean section.  I called the delivery suite in the middle of the night questioning whether I could live on this little sleep and when the midwife arrived at 8.30 the next morning I cried so much (literally on her) I couldn’t even say hello.

My circumstances were hard but, beyond that, I was full on mourning. I distinctly remember looking out of our window, seeing a cyclist and questioning how it was even possible that life outside was carrying on as normal.  How were people carrying on commuting to and from work!? Life was over!

It turns out babies are by no means comparable to Furbys.

At the time I felt the need to cover it up (‘What a beautiful baby’ comments flowed generously) but now I can unashamedly confess that I did not enjoy the first three months at all and, given the opportunity, would have quite gladly put Elias back if it meant I could indulge in a full night’s sleep.

Daily I was faced with every new mothers’ dilemma: get out of the house and stay sane or stay in and get sleep.  I got out and I’m glad I did.  I’m blessed to the skies to have a community of local church friends who are also slogging away with the loving and labouring of early parenthood; it was the company of these lovely women that coloured the fog of the early days and put the tricky bits into perspective.

At about three months, as my good friends kept telling me it would, something quite remarkable happened. It was as if a personality flew into Elias in the night and all of a sudden he became a beautiful little human being to me (rather than a milking-machine with a siren).

It may have helped that, around about this time, sleep became a little more predictable too.

Life had changed monumentally but I began to find the new normal within this.  For the first ten months or so of Elias’ life, if I was out in the evening (a rare, rare occurrence), I would leave early to ensure I could be in bed by nine.  I also began to accept relationship changes.  It was me. I had changed so much that this was bound to happen.  This year I have made friendships that will last me until I am grey and beyond using the pill to make sure this never happens again (joking) but I have also had to acknowledge that there are some friends that I just won’t see as much of anymore.

Going back to work as a teacher was also a real flag in the sand.  My interview tag line, when asked why I want to be an English teacher, had always been ‘because I value young people and a pass in GCSE English gives them choice in their future careers’. It’s still true and I’d spout it again but upon returning to the classroom, the idea of valuing young people has taken on a new level of truth to me; every single one of those scruffy, hormonal teens is somebody’s Elias and by hook or by crook I’ll do everything in my power to give them the best possible chance to do what they want in life.

 I finally understand why parents want to tell me about their children’s first words at parent’s evenings; I’ll be taking the baby albums to Elias’.

I’ve been back at work for five months now (part-time), Elias is a grand old age of fourteen months and I am ever aware of the truth in the adage that ‘with the birth of a new baby is the birth of a mother’. I barely recognise the lady with the bump dreaming of donuts.

Swinging my legs off the sofa of contemplation, I sit up and thank you for allowing me to share my year with you. There is something truly therapeutic about a listening ear (even if you have to pay).