You’ve been a human beanbag for a tiny person for weeks and weeks on end. You’ve learnt how to go to the toilet while holding a child, you’ve changed nappies in the boot of the car, you’ve said no to countless invitations and you’ve learnt to survive on 90 minutes of sleep snatched throughout the day and night.
It has been sacrifice since the moment that child was handed to you.
And you’re spent.
In the dark of the night, when you’re feeding this bottomless pit of a child, struggling to stay upright, you will realise there’s no end to this. It’s like you hadn’t ever considered it before but here you are, finally realising what should have been the most obvious part of motherhood: it’s constant. Relentless. Incessant. Permanent. You never ever get to clock off. Your ability to be selfish has been taken away and you never realised how much you’d miss it.
You wanted this baby; you’re over the moon that she’s here. You love her more than you thought possible. And yet you want a break. You get annoyed that she wants you all the time. You want to leave your house on a whim. You want to go drinking with your friends. You want your body to be just yours. Just once.
You think about what you were doing a couple of months ago and you feel … Pain? Sadness? Grief? The old you has gone and she’s not coming back. You’re never going to be that person again. You know you have to let go of who you were but you didn’t even get to say goodbye.
When you do let her go, things will start to change within you.
Your baby pounds an angry fist against your chest and you brush the back of her hand with one finger and it calms her. She gives a little shudder-sigh, which you know, without even looking, means she’s fallen asleep. You pull her to your face to kiss her velvet cheek and a tear falls from your eye as you let the last bit of the past crumble away.
Because this is you now. You know this baby. She knows you. And you need each other. Through the endless nights, the frustrated tears and the small wins you’ve had, you’ve become a mother. You almost didn’t notice it happening. You realise that all your thoughts are about her. You put her first, without even thinking about it. You know you’d die for this tiny, needy little creature. Despite all of it, you wouldn’t go back.
All the tiny pieces of your soul have been scattered to the wind but slowly, surely, they’ve settled to the ground and, bit by bit, they’ve come together. You’re different now—more beautiful, more complicated, but stronger. You’re a mother.