Nine months has become ten months. Our daughter is ten months old. I can’t believe it. The only thing that seems certain is that time keeps flying.
Our daughter is getting more interactive by the day: clapping, giggling and beginning to do the actions to songs. It’s amazing and lovely but also a little bit sad. Each day she seems less of a baby, and keen to do things that distance her from the tiny being that she once was.
A major theme of the month is that our daughter has been having a difficult time with sleep. I’m not really sure if this is a normal phase – I stopped looking up stuff to do with sleep, because it felt eerily similar to looking up a horoscope. The very broken sleep is more of a shock to us because of a few weeks where we felt like we’d turned a corner. Suddenly she was sleeping for 4, 5, and 6 hours by herself in her cot, and it was me waking at night, not really sure what was going on. Now she is back to waking every 2 hours, and she’s only wanted to sleep in my arms.
Anxiety has been the other big theme this month: related to COVID-19 and the pandemic, quitting my job, and moving house. Probably the tiredness isn’t helping with this.
I’ve been trying to do a handful of different things this month, in an attempt to regain some normality after the pandemic. I’m slow off the mark compared with a lot people, and it is hard. I can’t work out what is anxiety, and where I have just changed as a person. Motherhood occurred during the pandemic for me, so I don’t know where one stops and the other begins. I no longer want to do things I used to. I don’t like shopping in shops any more, I get panicky in groups of people, and I prefer food and drink when I’ve made it.
I feel a sense of responsibility. I am painfully aware that there are lots of things my daughter will yearn to do in the future. I probably do need to be able to do things, even if I don’t want to.
Quitting my job
I quit my job this month. I’m proud of myself for it. I put off talking to my employer for ages before I finally got on and did it. It was unkind of me to myself, honestly, to leave it like that. I had all sorts of completely ridiculous intrusive thoughts, frightening scenarios that came to me like a bolt from the blue and then lingered for hours. I’d fall over carrying my daughter and kill her. I’d drop her down the stairs. My husband would leave me. I’m trying really hard to cut myself some slack over these, cos apparently intrusive thoughts are a really normal part of being a mum.
Anyway, my manger was very kind when I quit. She said she understood. And now, that’s it. I’m not going back to that job. Months and months of noise and mental chatter and now…. Silence. It’s very definite and very final-feeling. My next steps are telling everyone. And working out who I am in this new life where I am Just A Mum.
I know I am very fortunate – for a number of reasons – to have being Just A Mum as an option. It’s not a complaint, complaining is the last thing on my mind.
We need to move house soon. We’ve got stuff packed up in boxes already. I feel very very guilty about it, as our house is the only space our daughter has ever known. She relaxes when she arrives home, like ‘phew’, and I feel very bad about altering that or taking it away from her. I’m sure she’ll adapt and be ok, because that’s what children do. It’ll be me that’s the problem.
I’m anticipating another month of things being very busy, cos that’s the way of things, right? Blink and you miss them. Time feels like it goes very slowly and very quickly all at the same time.
Anyway, that’s what we’ve got going on right now.
Lots of love,
Want to read more from my diary?