One month down…

Today marks my little girl’s one month ‘birthday’. Hilarious, really. Never again in her life will she or will we mark her time on earth in days/weeks/months.

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I have tried a number of times to come online and start writing about what it’s like to be a new mother because GOD KNOWS there aren’t nearly enough mummy blogs already out there. But I just couldn’t.

Yes, I have been so tired that I can barely function. For example,  I’ve lost my keys and they’re the only set with our letterbox key on them so we haven’t been able to check the mail in over a week. Sure, we could get another one, but to be totally honest we have to do A LOT of other things (like registering her birth – seriously), so getting a new letterbox key has fallen way, way, way down on our priority list.

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Yes, I have cried. I have sobbed. I have held my baby girl as she wailed and I have cried with her. I have collapsed on the floor outside her nursery and cried into the carpet. I have cried so hard and so long that the tears stopped flowing.

I cried because I felt my nerve slowly eroding.

I cried because I felt like a failure.

I cried because I thought this was all too much.

I cried because I didn’t think I could cope.

There is no real Hollywood ending to this either. No illuminating nuggets of wisdom, no hilarious anecdotes. After only one month (go on, laugh away) at being a new mother I am none the wiser.

Photo on 9-2-16 at 11.23 AM #2

That said, this period has helped to reinforce my belief that women are far too unkind to themselves and to one another.

Having  a baby is hard. It is harder than anyone who doesn’t have children can ever imagine. Forget the grueling physical impacts such as the lack of sleep, it is the heart wrenching emotional elements that rip you apart.  Compound that with the constant advice/tips from just about anyone and everyone and it’s a miracle most new mothers are able to even get out of bed in the morning.

All that said, I am still crying, albeit not as often. These days when I do cry I do it alone and away from my daughter. Oddly enough it’s that very decision – not to let her see or hear me weep – that’s staving off the tears. That purpose – to be there fully and to be the best me I can possibly me – is what’s helping get me through.