Laura will celebrate her first birthday in four weeks' time. Which means that in four weeks' time I will be returning to work.
It seems like everybody has an opinion about working mums versus stay-at-home mums. And it seems like lots of mums feel guilty to some extent about their choice. A long time before Laura came along, my mum girlfriends would talk to me about their own dilemma. The main themes were 'If I work, I miss my kids', 'If I don't work, I go stir crazy' and 'I wish I didn't have to work, but I need to bring in an income'.
Recently, I met with my boss to confirm my return to work. Afterwards, I feel excited and exhilarated, but also apprehensive. It is comforting to know that I am still able to talk intelligently about the work I do, and that I'm not fazed about jumping into familiar as well as new processes. My apprehension is about putting Laura into day care. I worry that she's too young to be away from me. I worry that someone else will be playing a part in 'raising' my child, and what the outcome of that may be. I worry that I'll miss some of her milestones, like her first steps. I worry that she'll forget who I am. On the other hand, I have confidence that she'll thrive in its social environment.
Whenever I tell someone that I'm going back to work, I feel I have to justify myself: 'I love spending time with my daughter, and I took this year off so I could fully enjoy her, but I need to use my brain in a different way again'. I find myself explaining my choice to everyone, even other mums (both those who work and those who stay at home), our Baby Clinic nurse (who is a working mum) and my female boss (who is also a mum and who I'm sure is happy to have me back at work). I feel as though by saying I'm going back to work, I'm actually saying I'm not maternal, or I don't love her as much, or I put my needs ahead of hers. All of which couldn't be further from the truth.
Before my husband and I had even decided to start our family, I thought that I'd like to be a stay-at-home mum. I envisioned doing the school drop-off and pick-up, preparing afternoon tea when my children got home from school, and overseeing homework and supervising their outdoor play time before dinner. My mum chose to stay at home to raise my brother, sister and me, and she did these things for us, and so I wanted to do them for my kids. However, when the time came to apply for maternity leave, I knew I wanted to take 12 months.
When I was pregnant, someone told me, 'My wife felt that six months was too soon to go back to work. But by 12 months, she was more than ready.' I've found that this has been my experience. Laura has enriched my family life and added another dimension to my identity, but it's important to me that I make sure my life is still balanced in its other areas. And because I am blessed to have a job that I love, and one in which I am still learning and growing, returning to work is an important part of this balance.
As the spouse who isn't the main breadwinner, I feel an additional element of pressure about the decision to be a working parent versus a stay-at-home parent. For my husband, there really isn't a question about him working full time or not, so he doesn't have to wrestle with making a decision on the matter. For me, though, it is a lifestyle and parenting choice. At what age do I (and hubby) think it's okay for Laura to start day care? And for how many days a week? When do I want to start working again? When do I need to start working again? How important is my career to me?
Despite my fears, I know what is right for me. I'm not second-guessing my choice. It will be hard (I'll miss her little face), and I'm somewhat in denial that it is happening. It helps that I'm completely confident and comfortable about the day care we've chosen. To be the best parent I can be, I need to be the best version of me, and for me that means living a well-rounded life.
Thursday, 20 September 2012
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
Organisation is key for a full and fun day
My days as a mum work best when they involve a series of lists. I'm reminded of one of the scenes in the recent movie I Don't Know How She Does It, where the main character, Kate, is lying in bed after her children and husband have gone to sleep and her to-do list flashes across the screen as she creates it. I watched the movie after Laura was born, so such scenes really struck a chord. On the matter of bringing up your child(ren) and running a household — not to mention throwing outings, holidays and work into the mix — I applaud all mothers who have gone before me.
The other morning, I overheard my husband telling my girlfriend over the phone, 'Yes, I'm sure she'd love to meet you for a coffee. Before 10 am might be a little tricky, though.' Another girlfriend once told me she was glad I suggested 10.30 am for a play date for our children, as had it been any earlier she would have been pushing it to get there on time. In the mornings at our house it's all stations go, go, go, yet I find that even with my husband and I both contributing to the morning routine, we need every minute of the two-and-a-half hours from the time our daughter wakes up to the earliest time I seem able to make it out the door.
Getting out the door in the morning is one thing. Going on a family holiday is another. Our little family recently went away for the weekend. We only stayed away one night, and packed light (a happy result of lessons learnt when we travelled overseas and to Melbourne earlier this year), but it still took me most of Friday to get us packed. My aim when we travel is to take essentials only (for example, hotel towels and face washers are fine for her skin at this age), while minimising the risk of being caught short. A new mum recently tweeted a photo of a porter's trolley overflowing with her family's luggage, and the caption along the lines of 'the stuff you need when you travel with a baby'. I hear her — you have an extra person to think about, for whom it isn't always so easy to apply the attitude 'I'll go without' or 'I'll just pop down to the all-night corner store for the missing supplies'. On our first holiday away at Christmas last year, our car was packed to overflowing, including the basket on our roof racks.
Planning the following day and the upcoming week (not to mention a trip away) is the best way for me to limit potential chaos and ensure Laura and I can get out and about and enjoy ourselves. Otherwise, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd be forever running around chasing my tail. Or, I'd discover that Laura only has clean summer clothes on a winter's day. Or that we had run out of her prepared meals when we're going to be out all day.
If there's anything I need to make sure I do, it helps to have made a note about it beforehand, as remembering things while we're trying to get out the door on time and while supervising an increasingly mobile baby is a difficult task. Do I need to pack a snack for Laura, or can we buy her something there? Will I need to take a hat, a warm coat? Is the stroller adequate, or do I need to put the pram in the car? How many of her meals do I have left in the freezer? How many more days of warm clothes does she have until I need to do another load of washing? Do we have time to put her down for a nap, or will she need to wait until later in the morning?
Mapping out my day may seem like a bit of an overkill. The way I see it, it's only going to get more hectic as Laura gets older. There'll be her school, after-school activities and weekend sport to fit in our calendar, alongside her parents' social engagements. And I'll be back at work. So I look at this as good practice. Besides, there are other benefits to being organised: it also enables me to fit in quality 'mummy time' while Laura's napping and to regularly catch up with girlfriends. But, I do still have a little way to go, as currently I have no idea how I'll add day care drop-off to our daily morning routine!
Planning the following day and the upcoming week (not to mention a trip away) is the best way for me to limit potential chaos and ensure Laura and I can get out and about and enjoy ourselves. Otherwise, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd be forever running around chasing my tail. Or, I'd discover that Laura only has clean summer clothes on a winter's day. Or that we had run out of her prepared meals when we're going to be out all day.
If there's anything I need to make sure I do, it helps to have made a note about it beforehand, as remembering things while we're trying to get out the door on time and while supervising an increasingly mobile baby is a difficult task. Do I need to pack a snack for Laura, or can we buy her something there? Will I need to take a hat, a warm coat? Is the stroller adequate, or do I need to put the pram in the car? How many of her meals do I have left in the freezer? How many more days of warm clothes does she have until I need to do another load of washing? Do we have time to put her down for a nap, or will she need to wait until later in the morning?
Mapping out my day may seem like a bit of an overkill. The way I see it, it's only going to get more hectic as Laura gets older. There'll be her school, after-school activities and weekend sport to fit in our calendar, alongside her parents' social engagements. And I'll be back at work. So I look at this as good practice. Besides, there are other benefits to being organised: it also enables me to fit in quality 'mummy time' while Laura's napping and to regularly catch up with girlfriends. But, I do still have a little way to go, as currently I have no idea how I'll add day care drop-off to our daily morning routine!
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
A trip down pregnancy memory lane
Our darling daughter is nine months old, which got me thinking that we've now known her little face for roughly the same amount of time that I was pregnant with her. Add to this train of thought that friends of ours are excitedly awaiting the arrival of their first child, and that our next-door neighbour is due today, and it's no wonder I've taken a trip down pregnancy memory lane.
While I was pregnant, I often wanted to fast forward to being a mum, so I could meet our little one and, yes, say goodbye to the morning sickness and lay on my stomach again. Now with some distance, and after talking to soon-to-be parents, I'm reminded what a special time those nine months are. There are a number of moments I'll always remember, cherish and laugh at myself about.
There is something magical about seeing your growing child via an ultrasound. Our first ultrasound was at around six weeks, and I'll never forget how I felt when I saw that 1.8 cm jellybean-like shape on the screen: vulnerable. Just as mind-blowing were the later ultrasounds, which showed more detail, like the heart beat and those ten little fingers and toes. Similarly, I couldn't wait to feel my baby's first little kicks and hiccups, and share them with hubby when they got stronger. Towards the end of my pregnancy, my baby bump was often lopsided, and sometimes had the odd lump (aka foot) sticking out of it.
My husband and I did take a babymoon of sorts (we combined my birthday celebrations with one of his work trips). We went when I was five months pregnant, which in hindsight was the perfect time to go. My stomach wasn't too big to be uncomfortable, flying wasn't an issue, and I still had enough energy to walk around and be a tourist. Sure, I had to think about what I ate (no sushi or soft cheese), I replaced a birthday cocktail with a birthday mocktail, and I was generally tucked up in bed early, but I also squeezed in a spot of shopping and my last massage until Laura was seven months old (two of the usual things I like to do on holidays). Looking back, it was a great way for us to enjoy some time away together, for the last time as just the two of us.
Choosing names was interesting, especially as we decided to wait to see if we were having a boy or a girl. For a boy, I like strong, masculine names. For a girl, I wanted a name that she could grow with, and that she could introduce herself with in a company board meeting should she choose that route in life. I had a great time reading baby names books and pairing potential first and middle names. We had a boy's name and a girl's name picked out before we arrived at the hospital, although we also agreed if bub really didn't look like a Laura or a Jack, we'd pick another name.
Setting up the nursery was a lot of fun. Our aim was to create a colourful, gender-neutral space, which would also see our child through infancy, childhood and into the teenage years with simply a change of wall hangings and furniture (hubby and I had an ulterior motive: we both really dislike painting walls). It needed to be practical, flexible and fun. I think we've achieved what we set out to do — it's my favourite room in our house. Another fun pregnancy milestone was my baby shower (organised by two of my beautiful girlfriends). A gorgeous day, shared with friends and family; just perfect for a new mummy-to-be.
I've previously alluded to the fact that I like being prepared, and my preparation for my hospital stay was no exception. I did leave what I couldn't plan for to 'whatever happened on the day', but I had my bag packed four weeks before my due date (a helpful tip from a girlfriend was to pack a second set of toiletries so I didn't need to worry about collecting and packing them just before I jumped in the car) and a checklist to make sure I didn't forget anything. I confess I even wrote out our announcement message for friends and family (complete with blanks for name, time and date of birth) days before the event, and made sure we had a contact list for this announcement in hubby's phone. Laugh if you will (I am), but I'd do this all again, as such things were really the last thing on my mind when Laura was born.
One of my more funny-but-true memories was related to my nesting. In the final weeks leading up to my due date, I spring cleaned our house, organised the pantry, scrubbed our fridge and freezer, and folded every item of clothing in my closet and dresser. Hubby mentioned my failure to take things easy and rest to my obstetrician, I explained it was because I wanted to bring bub home to a clean house, and her response was, 'I don't think baby will be any the wiser. Enjoy these last moments where you can put your feet up.'
During my pregnancy, other mums would say to me, 'Enjoy this time, it's so special.' As the weeks went by, when my tummy became my personal herald when I entered a room, when I began to seriously consider trading my entire shoe collection for a single bite of brie, and when my unborn child and I had nightly wrestling matches over whether I would sleep on my left or right side, I admit I began to wonder whether these women had experienced something different. But jokes aside, it really is incredible to know that I made another human being, and that she is connected to me in more ways than I'm aware of. Just as I'll never forget the moment when I first heard my daughter cry, I'll never forget my journey that brought me to that moment.
While I was pregnant, I often wanted to fast forward to being a mum, so I could meet our little one and, yes, say goodbye to the morning sickness and lay on my stomach again. Now with some distance, and after talking to soon-to-be parents, I'm reminded what a special time those nine months are. There are a number of moments I'll always remember, cherish and laugh at myself about.
There is something magical about seeing your growing child via an ultrasound. Our first ultrasound was at around six weeks, and I'll never forget how I felt when I saw that 1.8 cm jellybean-like shape on the screen: vulnerable. Just as mind-blowing were the later ultrasounds, which showed more detail, like the heart beat and those ten little fingers and toes. Similarly, I couldn't wait to feel my baby's first little kicks and hiccups, and share them with hubby when they got stronger. Towards the end of my pregnancy, my baby bump was often lopsided, and sometimes had the odd lump (aka foot) sticking out of it.
My husband and I did take a babymoon of sorts (we combined my birthday celebrations with one of his work trips). We went when I was five months pregnant, which in hindsight was the perfect time to go. My stomach wasn't too big to be uncomfortable, flying wasn't an issue, and I still had enough energy to walk around and be a tourist. Sure, I had to think about what I ate (no sushi or soft cheese), I replaced a birthday cocktail with a birthday mocktail, and I was generally tucked up in bed early, but I also squeezed in a spot of shopping and my last massage until Laura was seven months old (two of the usual things I like to do on holidays). Looking back, it was a great way for us to enjoy some time away together, for the last time as just the two of us.
Choosing names was interesting, especially as we decided to wait to see if we were having a boy or a girl. For a boy, I like strong, masculine names. For a girl, I wanted a name that she could grow with, and that she could introduce herself with in a company board meeting should she choose that route in life. I had a great time reading baby names books and pairing potential first and middle names. We had a boy's name and a girl's name picked out before we arrived at the hospital, although we also agreed if bub really didn't look like a Laura or a Jack, we'd pick another name.
Setting up the nursery was a lot of fun. Our aim was to create a colourful, gender-neutral space, which would also see our child through infancy, childhood and into the teenage years with simply a change of wall hangings and furniture (hubby and I had an ulterior motive: we both really dislike painting walls). It needed to be practical, flexible and fun. I think we've achieved what we set out to do — it's my favourite room in our house. Another fun pregnancy milestone was my baby shower (organised by two of my beautiful girlfriends). A gorgeous day, shared with friends and family; just perfect for a new mummy-to-be.
I've previously alluded to the fact that I like being prepared, and my preparation for my hospital stay was no exception. I did leave what I couldn't plan for to 'whatever happened on the day', but I had my bag packed four weeks before my due date (a helpful tip from a girlfriend was to pack a second set of toiletries so I didn't need to worry about collecting and packing them just before I jumped in the car) and a checklist to make sure I didn't forget anything. I confess I even wrote out our announcement message for friends and family (complete with blanks for name, time and date of birth) days before the event, and made sure we had a contact list for this announcement in hubby's phone. Laugh if you will (I am), but I'd do this all again, as such things were really the last thing on my mind when Laura was born.
One of my more funny-but-true memories was related to my nesting. In the final weeks leading up to my due date, I spring cleaned our house, organised the pantry, scrubbed our fridge and freezer, and folded every item of clothing in my closet and dresser. Hubby mentioned my failure to take things easy and rest to my obstetrician, I explained it was because I wanted to bring bub home to a clean house, and her response was, 'I don't think baby will be any the wiser. Enjoy these last moments where you can put your feet up.'
During my pregnancy, other mums would say to me, 'Enjoy this time, it's so special.' As the weeks went by, when my tummy became my personal herald when I entered a room, when I began to seriously consider trading my entire shoe collection for a single bite of brie, and when my unborn child and I had nightly wrestling matches over whether I would sleep on my left or right side, I admit I began to wonder whether these women had experienced something different. But jokes aside, it really is incredible to know that I made another human being, and that she is connected to me in more ways than I'm aware of. Just as I'll never forget the moment when I first heard my daughter cry, I'll never forget my journey that brought me to that moment.
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