Motherhood verses Adulthood

Since being a mum, for me, the biggest sacrifice and change has been the temperamental retirement of my social life. Now evenings and weekends are spent doing ‘family stuff,’ trips to the coast, play groups (actually, so far, I’ve managed to swerve this, the excuses being, there is one of me and two of them), long walks with the pushchair to somehow stop that incessant screaming, parading the boys around a long list of family, friends and just about any other gooey baby fan that wants a peek at the little critters. Life has very much become less about me and more about our new additions Albie and Henry.

 

So when the time came to hang up my vintage Converse, lay the sparkly hot pants down, burn the plentiful crop tops and exchange them for ape sized knickers and nursing bras, I suddenly realised, life had just rolled out of dancing on table tops in Ocean Beach Ibiza, and spat me out, saggy, haggard and laid me to rest as nothing more than a feeding machine chained to the sofa, boobs flopped out, hair in disarray and the bits that were once freshly waxed now concealed by a jungle of wiry mess. Yep, overnight life had just handed me to the clenched grip of motherhood and it suddenly dawned on me, ‘there was no going back now.’

 

As the months ticked by, I realised motherhood was full of sacrificial renditions. The occasional bottomless brunch with some of my finest, was declined, all the whilst I had two critters hanging off my milking machines, I temporarily, respectfully declined. The usual Sunday morning hangover brunch up the local café, well for now, I respectfully declined. A last-minute Friday evening meal, complimented by a few cocktails, I respectfully declined. A trip to Bluewater to grab a coffee date, I respectfully declined or a shopping trip up the city, again, I respectfully declined. Had I totally sacrificed my whole life to motherhood? Was these constant, ‘no, I’m busy feeding. No, I couldn’t possibly leave the boys with Harry for more than five minutes. No, the whole world will implode if I leave the boys for an hour. No, I only have 3 hours between feeds, I cannot deny them of breast milk, even though the fridge is stacked full of it! I realised that not only had I become an obsessive mother, drowning in all things motherhood but Id become an anxious one, incapable of seeing a world outside of it.

 

I blame Covid. My first taste of motherhood was spent lonely. Christmas came and went, New Year’s was spent sleeping on the front room floor, intermittently woken by hangry new-borns thrown in with a moments of merriment and damming the year we all were merciless to the hands of Covid 19. But nevertheless, it was a New Year to remember, our first in our new home and our first as a family of four. Then the colder and wetter months drew in and January 2021 cast a cold, grey banket of solemn over us. Unable to meet with friends and family I spent most my days getting by, feeding around the clock relentlessly expressing like a cow and when the lunchtime feed was down, I raced to assemble the pram, dress two new-borns for a bleak winters day and got my ass as quick as possible out the door. I know what you’re thinking, ‘come on girl, get a grip, do you know how lucky you are? And the answer is ‘yes, yes of course I do,’ but loneliness is a funny thing and despite being in the company of two new-borns, that unfortunately do not share my love for Gin, nether are keen runners or enjoyed my new found love for Game of Thrones, loneliness still crept in and I missed my friends terribly.  

 

Quite frankly, before having babies, I spent merely a minute alone, ether sharing my time between beloved clients, Harry, friends and family. Suddenly the absence of a busy work/life schedule, reminded me that life, for now, had taken a very different path. For a while I was inundated with visitors dropping parcels and packages of generosity at the door. From baked goods, to takeaway meals, to lavish gifts for the boys and self-care ‘mummy packs’ for me. But visitors and their cherished goods came no further than the front door, where a haggard mother would exchange but a few words with comforting friends who were desperate to get a glance at the handsome kings. On one occasion one of my besties knocked on the door. Sabrina placed a large parcel at the door, full of fashion favourites for the boys. We spoke briefly and mostly we spoke about wretched Covid and how it had doomed the day she was supposed to have her first cuddle with her friend’s precious kings. I remember how I longed for her to come in, how I stood there and tried to convince her that I was coping just fine. Sabrina of course, kept a clear distance from me, not because she thought I would give her some deadly disease but the Covid spell hung heavy over us and it just wasn’t worth the risk. As we said our parting words, I closed the door to her and in that moment broke down in the middle of a dingy porchway. I thought, ‘screw you Covid, I want my bestie, I want her to cuddle me, I want her to come in and drink tea with me, I want her to tell me that everything is okay and these days will pass, I wanted her to talk all things gossipy and I wanted her to cast a glance on my two little boys who remained oblivious to a broken mum in the porchway. I stood there for a few moments deliberating over whether to beg for her to come back. Then that little voice of reason spoke to me again, ‘get a grip Cherry, everything will be alright.’

 

Once the Covid lockdown clock hit midnight and sometime later, the dawn of a new day rose, suddenly a new world awoke. Friends passed through the doorway, Albie and Henry got their first cuddle, with aunt’s, uncle’s friend’s and randomer’s. Gyms reopened, bottomless brunches became fashionable again and suddenly, I found my place right back where Mother Earth had intended, a mother to the most beautifully handsome boys there ever were, sitting on a Spin Bike, with a glass of prosecco in her hand listening to Swedish House Mafias finest! Life was balanced again and despite the confusion and upheaval that motherhood had placed upon me, I told myself this, ‘get on with it Cherry, just like learning to deadlift 120kg, it’s a long hard process, but eventually you’ll crack it!

 

So here’s to embracing motherhood! Better still, here’s to embracing motherhood with friends, family and your very own Harry (or whoever your prince charming may be). In this unwritten world of parenthood, me and so many others find ourselves lost in a web of, ‘is this right? Should I be feeling this? Is it normal to sometimes want my old life back? Will my friends forget me and find their very own ‘new Ria? Will I ever fit into my sparkly hot pants again? Will I ever get loose with the girls again and roll in when the sun has come back up? Hold it together sisters, those days will return and if you never fit into that unforgiving crop top again, sod it, your body just made and carried, quite frankly the most beautiful being in the world, stand proud and shake what your mumma gave ya!