From a mother to her daughter on her first birthday

Dear Laura,

I can hardly believe you're a year old. It seems like only yesterday that I first held you in my arms, and you looked up at me with eyes that held an understanding beyond your age.

The moments shared between just me and you, kiddo, are some of my most treasured. When you slept peacefully in my arms. When you sit on my lap and take in the world around you. When you learn something new and look to me with pride. When you're playing happily and steal a glance in my direction to make sure I'm still there — then return contentedly to what you were doing. When I walk into the room and your face lights up when you see me. When we cuddle before bedtime. When you say, 'Mum'.

You've learnt and grown so much this past year. Every day you amaze me. Each new milestone you've reached has been proudly documented by your parents. You are fearless — I hope you don't lose that. And what a quick study you are! You want to do everything that we do. You're asserting your independence more and more each day.

I love your developing personality and quirky traits. You're stubborn, like me, and laid-back, like your dad. Yet you are very adaptable. You shriek when you laugh, and screw your face up when you smile. You're perfectly content to amuse yourself, and happy to play with others. You sing along with me and the radio when we're driving in the car, and you sing to yourself when the mood strikes you. You smile as soon as someone points a camera in your direction, because you've learnt what to do when that happens.

What an adventure this first year has been. You've been in airplanes, trains, ferries, subways and even iconic New York City cabs. You've seen snow and swam in the ocean. You've holidayed in Queensland, Victoria, New South Wales, the United States and Canada. You've hiked through forests, walked along beaches, watched fireworks, and observed sea lions and whales in their natural habitats. You've been christened and experienced your first Christmas. You already have a cousin. Your arrival has been celebrated by family and friends all over the world.

Best of all, you've turned your father's and my partnership into a family, and you've filled our home with laughter and happiness. When I watch you and your dad playing together, my heart feels like it will burst. We are both so in love with our little girl, and both so proud of how you're growing up, and the person you're becoming. We couldn't have imagined a more special first year.

Love,
Mum

A working mum: the right choice for me

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.

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!

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.

The guilt trap

Mother's guilt. It's been striking me an awful lot lately. I'm usually tough on myself anyway, but since becoming a mum my inner critic has scaled new heights. However, let me be clear that my self-judgement is just that — focused on me; I would never hold any other mum out there to the same standards.

Some of the baby care choices I've made occasionally give me a twinge of guilt, but the guilt over these things is fleeting. Cloth nappies versus disposable nappies is a good example. Truthfully, cloth nappies were never an option for our family. When you consider how many nappy changes you do in a day, multiply that by seven days in a week, multiply that by 52 weeks in a year and multiply that by three years, it adds up to a lot of hand rinsing plus machine washing plus drying! I do worry about toxins and nappy rash, and I do feel guilty about adding to landfill, but for me, convenience won.

Then there are the baby care choices that surprised me. I am extremely wary about packaged baby food, and opt to make my own wherever possible. This was a revelation for me. As an adult I indulge in my fair share of packaged food. I don't study the ingredients label on my foods, but when it comes to Laura, I read them carefully. Yes, I do give her packaged stuff (that's been through my vigorous screening process) when we're out and about — a convenience thing again — but at home it's all homemade, so I know exactly what's in it. Despite this, my mother's guilt kicks in when she's consumed a couple of packets over a few days. I mean, how much more work would it really be to put homemade food in a microwave-safe plastic container, take it with me, and find a microwave? Alternatively, I could take a banana, bowl and fork and mash it up for her on the go, couldn't I?

But most of all, my mother's guilt rears its head in a big way when it comes to finding a balance between play time for Laura and mummy time. Now nine months into my thirteen months of maternity leave, I'll admit my mind is craving intellectual stimulation, and the need to achieve something more in an eight-hour period than just a trip to the supermarket.

Once the daily household chores, errands and appointments are completed, I'm left juggling the time I spend on me for me (writing, for example) and the time I spend playing with Laura, teaching her, helping her explore her world and simply enjoying her. Of late, I've been plagued with an extraordinary amount of guilt over my not spending more time teaching her to clap, wave, mimic sounds or push herself up to a sitting position. Over not singing or reading to her as much as I'd like to. Our Baby Clinic nurse and I are in agreement that Laura is a quick study, and while she is developing nicely under my current amount of guidance, she would really lap up and enjoy additional, fun stimulation (and yes, we did agree that although I am the mum and therefore biased, she on the other hand is completely impartial and objective). If I took more time to play with Laura, would her world be enriched? And more importantly, would she be having more fun?

My husband insists that I cram too much into a day. He encourages me to take more time for myself, and to take more time to do fun things with our daughter, although he's also adamant that I am doing an exceptional job when it comes to her, that she is happy, healthy and thriving. So where is my guilt coming from? I've worked out that it boils down to my desire to excel and achieve in all areas of my life. Why can't I be the perfect mother and wife, who takes all the time in the world to care for her little one, while running our household (I am, after all, at home all day), looking after our family and following my own intellectual pursuits? I am a successful editor and project manager in the fast-paced publishing industry where scheduling and being organised is a way of life — my current gig should be a piece of cake!

Babies, however, are unpredictable. Schedules get tossed out the window. A nappy mishap, an early or late morning wake-up, even a bout of hiccups can leave me playing catch-up for the rest of the day. Prioritising becomes a necessity, and some days the blog entry I've been working on for two weeks, or the pile of washing that's been staring at me for a couple of days, sadly wins out over play time. Cue my mother's guilt.

Despite my guilt that suggests the contrary, I truly believe that the more time I take for myself, the better able I will be to take care of Laura. The rational part of my brain says Laura is coming along great with what I've been doing so far. Our Baby Clinic nurse's suggestion was that Laura is at a perfect age to soak up additional teachings, not that I'm not doing enough. Much as I'd like to do less housework, it's a part of life, and one way to look at it is that I'm teaching her a valuable life lesson. Discussions with other mums, newspaper articles and blog entries reveal that I am not alone when it comes to the special kind of guilt only a mother can feel. So I will take comfort in solidarity and will try to give my high-achieving self a break.

Time for mothers' group

I've been slow to seek new friendships with mums who have a bub similar in age to Laura. Soon after we were discharged from hospital, I set up a home visit with a nurse from Community Child Health. She gave me information about local mothers' groups, but I must admit I wasn't too keen to sign myself up. A girlfriend with three kids who are a little older than Laura told me about a local playgroup she used to attend, but still I wasn't enticed. Even talking to my husband's sister-in-law about the mothers' group she takes her three-month-old to didn't convince me.

My reluctance stems from a number of things. First, I'm a shy person, and walking into a group of strangers, introducing myself and making small talk (even if it's about my favourite topic, Laura) would take me outside of my comfort zone. Second, I've been extraordinarily busy since the birth of my daughter, and the thought of adding mothers' group to our weekly schedule makes me exhausted. And third, I find that the questions and concerns I have about Laura are different from those of the new mums I've spoken to. I love hearing other people's stories, no matter how different from mine, but I worry others won't relate to me.

For instance, a recent question of mine was: how much solids does a six-month-old need? Other than during the initial few days when she was getting used to eating these strange new substances, Laura didn't show signs that she was full (clamping her lips shut, turning her head, losing interest). However, she was eating what appeared to be extremely large portions for one so small. Whereas other mums have concerns about how to entice fussy eaters, my concern was whether I was missing her cue that she had eaten enough. Eventually, a childcare nurse gave us an answer that made sense to us: to keep offering her food until she did show signs of being full, and that some babies can eat almost as much as an adult.

I've recently started catching up with a new mum and her little girl who is a couple of weeks younger than Laura. From our first couple of meetings, it appears we have a few things in common. Similar age. First child. Returning to work soon. Bad morning sickness (ah, creates an instant bond). We've both travelled overseas with our little ones. Of course, there are differences, and her experience over these first seven months has been the polar opposite of mine, but I feel that we've clicked. 

What I like the most about this new friendship is how our little ones interact with each other. Because they are a similar age they are in a similar place developmentally, and can each "hold their own", for want of a better way of explaining it. During our last visit, they were both facing each other, Laura on her tummy, her new friend sitting up, and they took it in turns to reach out and touch the other's face. Cute, yes. But also interesting, when you think about it. Laura has play dates with children who are much older and much younger than her, but these seem a little one-sided at her age (she's either more interested or not interesting enough, depending on whether her companion is younger or older). Don't misunderstand me, though — the age difference will become negligible soon enough, and I think it's fantastic that Laura has friends of all different ages.

It's seeing Laura making friends with children her age that has made me reconsider my misgivings about how I'll fit into a mothers' group. Joining a group won't so much be for me as for her. Now that she's getting to the age where she can and wants to interact with children, I'd like to give her that opportunity. She tags along on my coffee dates with my girlfriends, sitting happily in her pram or high chair, sometimes for a couple of hours, but I'm thinking that will likely soon become boring for her. And although she'll be starting daycare soon, that's still five months away. So on that note, I'm seriously considering taking up a recent offer to join a mothers' group. I guess what it comes down to is that there isn't anything I wouldn't do for my daughter. 

I don't want to miss a thing

I was recently reminded to take a step back from life's craziness, and just enjoy my time with my daughter. Laura is now a little over seven months of age, so this first year is flying by more quickly than I'd like to admit. Our little family has been so busy lately that I've neglected to truly see how Laura has been learning and growing.

For instance, she now does this cute commando-style belly crawl, and each day she's getting a little more coordinated. This morning, she lifted herself up on her hands and knees for the first time, one step closer to crawling. It happened in a second, and was over the next, and if I hadn't been sitting with her I would have missed it. I really hope that I witness the first time she crawls, and don't just look down to find her beside me, when I left her on her play mat on the other side of the room.

Someone said a baby's brain changes so rapidly that even a week makes a world of difference. How true. Laura used to hate tummy time. She'd last for mere seconds, even though she was strong in other areas — neck muscles, leg muscles. Then almost overnight she rolled from her back onto her tummy, and there's been no stopping her since. Similarly, she's starting to get the hang of sitting. She can now sit comfortably in a highchair; a few weeks ago she'd slip to one side, stick out her arm, and recline there. Just this past week, I've noticed she can sit unaided for a few seconds longer than she used to (not quite sure when that changed). I can see how it would be possible to miss the onset of each new milestone, they happen so quickly.

Her personality is also developing, which I love to see. Some days she'll quietly but intently watch when someone interacts with her; other days she'll smile and babble away at them. She's begun to notice other babies and children — her face lights up when she sees them, she turns to watch them or rolls/belly crawls over to join them, and she 'talks' to them. She knows they're the same as her. She has the most infectious laugh (akin to a shriek), which she treats us to when we play peek-a-boo. As I'm writing this, she's singing happily to herself in her cot. And she's so curious — her head bobs right to left, left to right as she takes in the world around her.

Best of all, she rains affection on her parents. She's started to really hug me, like put her arms around my neck and bury her face in my shoulder. The other night when her dad came home from work, he was talking on his mobile out the front of our house. She heard him, turned to look at the door, and gave him the biggest smile as soon as he walked through it. It's such moments that make you feel truly blessed.

I know that because I see Laura every day, some of the changes she goes through don't appear as noticeable to me as to someone who hasn't seen her for a couple of weeks. She's becoming a little person now, with her own characteristics. When I think back to what she was like seven short months ago, it highlights just how much she's grown and learnt. However, it also highlights just how much she's grown and learnt, and how quickly it all changes. Many people have told me how fast the first year flies by, and to make sure I enjoy every moment of it, because she won't be a baby for long. Boy are they right!

Travelling with a baby

My biggest confidence boost to date as a new mum has been experiencing an overseas family work holiday with our five-and-a-half-month-old daughter. After successfully navigating two 14-hour long-haul flights, four shorter 'internal' flights in the space of two weeks, one six-hour road trip, three time zone changes, five different cots and hotel rooms, and a full sightseeing and social itinerary, I know my daughter can adjust to anything her parents may throw at her.

When my husband announced he was going to the United States and Canada for work, there was never a question that Laura and I wouldn't go with him. Yes, we were both nervous about how we would manage with a baby we are still getting to know, but we also knew this was the best time to embark on such an adventure. At this age, she's very alert, she's not yet mobile, and at the time she hadn't started on solid foods. Oh, and she's still not too loud!

Not one to be unprepared, I did as much research as possible before we flew out. The top tips I was given from friends, family and our lovely Baby Clinic nurse were:

1. Feed your baby during take-off and especially landing to keep her ears unblocked when the cabin pressure changes.
2. Try to book accommodation that has a separate bedroom with a door that closes, so your baby isn't taking her naps in the main living area.
3. Use a stroller that folds up to the size of a stick. If your baby falls asleep in it at the airport, you can wheel her right up to the door of the airplane, and check the stroller at the door.
4. Give children's Panadol an hour before take-off and landing if your baby is affected by the change in cabin pressure.
5. Fashion a muslin wrap or similar as a tent over the bassinet on the airplane to block out the overhead lights that are turned on during food service and the activity of the flight attendants and other passengers.

We used four of these five tips to one degree or another (we didn't need the children's Panadol), and I recommend them to fellow new mums who are thinking of jetsetting somewhere. However, having now travelled with a young baby, my top tips are:

1. Be flexible.
2. Maintain a healthy sense of humour.
3. Do not follow a long-haul flight with a five-hour cross-country flight. Spend at least a couple of nights and days in the city you land in before hopping back on an airplane.

When travelling without a baby, you take the good with some bad. When travelling with a baby, you do the same. My husband and I soon learnt to remind ourselves: 'An adult wouldn't find this enjoyable; our baby's displeasure is understandable. It's just that being adults we can't cry and carry on, whereas she can let her true feelings be known loud and clear.' While faultless on the long-haul flights where she had a bassinet to sleep in, Laura was not so amused on the shorter flights where she had to sit on her parents' lap. Fair enough. I don't enjoy being nose-to-back-of-seat-in-front for five hours, and my husband is unable to fall asleep in an upright position. Just as we were out of sorts when we were jet-lagged, so was Laura. It took her a few nights to fully adjust to each new time zone. And after waiting to clear customs in the longest line I've ever waited in, I can empathise with my daughter for being grizzly.

Flexibility quickly became our motto. Whereas I was a stickler for routine at home (it is a good way for me to understand and anticipate her wants and moods), the only routine we wanted Laura to keep while we were on holiday was to sleep through the night. If we wanted to go out for a late dinner, we did. Laura either slept in her bassinet or sat up on our laps and enjoyed the festivities. If we wanted to spend the entire day out sightseeing without returning to the hotel for her naps, we did. Laura simply fell asleep in her baby carrier when she was tired. Laura also 'told' us what she wanted, and so we adapted what we had been planning to do. For instance, she communicated loudly and clearly that she wasn't affected by the change in airplane cabin pressure, and that she didn't want to wait until take-off to be fed, or feed again so soon during landing. After a bit of worry and confusion on our part, what worked best for Laura was to sit on our lap and occasionally chew on a toy while we landed.

But don't misunderstand me; I am not a go-where-the-wind-takes-you kind of traveller, and I wouldn't attempt that with a baby. Before we left we thought long and hard about how to make the trip as easy as possible on all of us. We thought about every contingency, and then planned how to be best prepared for them all. From deciding to take Laura's bag as carry-on luggage so we had everything at our disposal on the flights, deciding to carry her around in the baby carrier so she was closer to us while in crowds and we could easily negotiate public transport, deciding which of her toys to take so she had familiar things but we weren't lugging around her entire toy box, getting her used to the shower rather than the bath so that we had options, deciding to drive instead of fly from San Francisco to Los Angeles as we already knew she travelled well in the car, to deciding to splurge on a one-bedroom suite and stay at least two nights in Los Angeles before flying back home so she was as settled as possible before the long-haul flight. This planning definitely helped things run smoothly, and enabled us to focus on and enjoy being tourists.

Looking back on our holiday, I would do it again without any hesitation. I don't feel that we missed out on any experiences because we were travelling with a baby, and the attention we received from strangers and friends because of Laura was touching and in fact enriched our experiences. Although she was too young to remember this trip, her experience was also a good one — she was happy and content. And for me, as a new mum there's nothing more empowering than exploring strange cities on your own with your little one, and both of you enjoying it.

'You're doing a great job'

I want to be a self-actualised person, more concerned with personal growth and less concerned with the opinions of others. Alas, particularly when it comes to motherhood, I haven’t reached the top of Maslow’s pyramid; instead, I’ve found myself craving validation that I’m a good mum.

It’s amazing what effect the words ‘you’re doing a great job’ have on me now that I’m a mum. Each time I hear them, I get a lump in my throat, I fight back tears and my heart soars. And I feel an overly personal connection to the stranger who’s bestowed them upon me.

Ask any new mum and I bet at one time or another she’s felt on display. I’m sure we’re not actually on display, but I think there are a number of reasons why we feel like we are. Babies are magnets — it’s a rare outing where Laura and I aren’t stopped by a stranger who smiles at her, plays with her or comments on her cuteness. My little one is the first grandchild in both my family and my husband’s, so news of her latest adventure is proudly relayed among relatives and friends. I recall attending a friend’s twenty-first birthday party many years ago. My friend and his fiancée had just had a baby, and this was the first time many of us had met their daughter. Someone noted that it must be difficult for his fiancée, with every guest at the party watching her to see how she’s coping. Even back then I remember my heart going out to her, and now that I have a baby of my own, the sentiment has a whole new meaning for me.

Four and a half months in and I still feel it’s a reflection of my parenting skills when Laura doesn’t fuss or cry for an entire outing. I schedule our activities around her feed and sleep routine, so when I leave the house I know I have a well-fed and well-rested baby in tow. Or I schedule her feed and sleep routine to work in with an outing, which means a whole day of planning if we’re going out in the evening. And I try to have ‘escape routes’ planned in case something goes amiss. It’s for this reason that I avoided doing the groceries by myself until she was eight weeks old. I felt I would be trapped if she started crying inconsolably while in the supermarket. What were my options? Try to complete the task and hope the other shoppers didn’t mind hearing a baby cry? Or abandon a half-filled trolley and run?

Despite setting things up for the best possible outcome, sometimes it all goes south. When Laura was three months old, we went out to dinner with friends. It had been one of those afternoons where she just would not go to sleep, even though we tried every trick in the book. This meant she was beyond overtired when we got to the restaurant, and you fellow parents will know what this means. I was sure I wasn’t imagining those disapproving looks from other diners. I remember wanting to apologise to our friends and make a hasty getaway. Then, while I was cuddling her on the footpath outside, a little old man who had finished his dinner and was leaving came up to us, put his hand on my arm and said, ‘She is such a good baby.’ I think I did cry a little that time.

I will admit that my fondness for Laura’s Baby Clinic nurse is not because she is a caring, knowledgeable professional who also asks about my health and wellbeing (although she is and does all these things), but because she is full of praise: ‘You’re doing a wonderful job with her’, ‘I’m so happy with her development’, ‘I can’t believe she’s doing that already’. She has a way of reassuring me that I’m on the right track, providing guidance and building my confidence in my abilities as a parent.

At the end of the day, I do know that I'm a good mum, regardless of whether someone else confirms this for me. I also know that a crying baby does not equal failure as a parent. My mother tells me: at four months of age my daughter was sleeping for 11 hours at night because she’s happy and her needs are being met (I like to think this is true and that it's not just due to luck). Laura herself verifies this every time her face lights up when she sees me.

Still, every so often it's nice to hear that you're doing a good job. So next time you're talking to a new mum, don't forget to send a little praise her way. You may make her day.

A new identity

Before Laura became a part of my life, there were many things that made up my identity. I was a career woman, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister. I loved fashion, fine dining, Sunday brunches, drinks with the girls, curling up on the couch with a good book, travelling, lazing on the beach, and nutting out a problem while running.

When I was pregnant, I had to put some of these things on hold. A glass of bubbly was replaced by a glass of the non-alcoholic variety. I stopped running as soon as my growing tummy started bouncing uncomfortably along in front of me. My husband and I took a trip to the beach a couple of weeks before my due date, but I was too self-conscious to want to do anything other than take a short stroll. And as for fashion … let’s just say that I spent the better part of nine months feeling like I wasn’t me. (Mind you, this wasn’t from lack of trying — I searched maternity shops all over Brisbane to no avail.)

Now that Laura is here, other things have taken a backseat. My attention span is currently almost as short as my daughter’s: the best I can manage is to read a magazine article — over two sittings. Meals involve my husband and me taking turns to inhale our food while the other entertains our little one. And lazing on the beach is still a thing of the past, but for different reasons: sun is not good for a baby, and what parent has time to laze away an afternoon?

As these parts of my identity were shelved, a new one emerged: I am a mum. My daughter’s needs come first. I constantly worry about her — is she too hot, is she too cold, am I facilitating her development, why is she crying, why haven’t I heard a peep from her? I prepare for her upcoming milestones (like moving her from the bassinet into the cot and introducing solids) and I schedule her vaccinations and Baby Clinic visits. Where I used to enjoy putting together an outfit, hairstyle and make-up for the day, I’m now happy if I’m dressed and my hair is brushed before she wakes up. And yes, she is my main topic of conversation, despite thinking that would never happen to me. No smile, gurgle, sneeze or movement is too small an achievement to tell someone about!

I love my new role, but I am a big believer in balance. And I liked who I was in my pre-mum days. I need to continue to enjoy the things I used to before parenthood. (Although I have accepted that some activities are a thing of the past until she’s much older, like sleeping in on Sundays.) So, how do you incorporate motherhood into your self, without losing who you are?

A piece of advice I was given before our family became a threesome was to teach our child to fit into our lives, rather than the other way around. Thankfully, Laura can be very adaptable (that’s not to say she isn’t a tad stubborn at times; she does take after her mother). She enjoys travelling in the car (the furthest we’ve tried is two hours), which means we’ve been able to get out of the city on day trips. Now that she can grab and hold her toys, she can amuse herself long enough for my husband and me to have almost-leisurely brunches … most days. She’s even learned to sit contentedly in her pram while I push it (and her) on my afternoon runs.

Of course, we’ve also happily adapted our lives for her. I am extremely lucky to have friends who will have a girls’ night in with me, or who have children of their own and so think nothing of a noisy, distracted coffee date that can end quite abruptly. I don’t mind organising my day around her feed and sleep schedule. I honestly enjoy ‘date night’ dinners at home. As a girlfriend and mum of three said, ‘I don’t need to go out for a date night, I just want some time where my husband and I can connect as a couple.’

That’s not to say that occasionally stepping out sans baby isn’t necessary in order to achieve balance. My husband and I were recently given the opportunity to go out for dinner, thanks to a babysitting offer from Laura’s grandparents. I’ve also caught a movie at the cinema with a girlfriend, for which I’ll admit I was most excited about wearing a chunky necklace that simply isn’t practical when you have a little one who grabs at and puts everything in her mouth. Interestingly, as much as I needed the ‘mummy’ and ‘mummy and daddy’ time, I found I couldn’t switch out of maternal mode — I missed her terribly and had to resist phoning and checking up on her.

The way I see it is that I will always be some of the things I was before I met Laura — wife, friend, daughter and sister — although perhaps a more distracted version. I will continue to be a career woman (feeling apprehensive about leaving her when I return to work will likely be the subject of a future blog entry). I am myself again when it comes to dressing up, and much to my husband’s amusement my personal style now encompasses my daughter. Eventually girls’ nights, travelling and beach getaways will become part of everyday life again, and some of these things will be enriched because they’ll no longer involve just my husband and me.

And now my identity includes being a mother, and all that comes with it. I will happily swap a sleep-in for her kisses and a good book for her first step because Laura is my best achievement. You see, I haven’t lost myself; there are just more things that make me who I am.

There are no silly questions

As a new mum, I want to ask a thousand questions every day. But what if they’re not about the usual parenting challenges, like how to grab some all important ‘mummy time’ when your baby feeds every two hours, how you’ll string a coherent sentence together when you’ve been up nursing at all hours of the night, or how to get your baby to sleep without rocking and singing to her until she nods off?

What if you have a baby who has given her mum at least four hours between feeds since birth? A baby who started sleeping seven hours during the night when she was two months old, and who before that would wake up to feed only once during the nocturnal hours since six weeks of age? A baby who has been self-soothing since she was two-and-a-half months old?

And what if you’re also one of those lucky mums who have a very hands-on husband, a husband who dearly loves his little girl and wants to be as involved as possible? Who encourages you to go have a pedicure and get your hair done while he looks after his daughter, and tries to assuage your feelings of guilt about needing to have some time without your little one attached to you?

As one of these mums, I’m finding it tricky to talk to friends, family and even healthcare professionals about the ups and downs and steep learning curve of being a new parent. When I start to say, ‘My ten-week-old daughter was sleeping for seven hours at night, but lately she’s been waking again at 4 am. She goes back to sleep after a nappy change, but I’m so tired! What can I do?’ it sounds thin to my ears ­— I’d hate to think what it sounds like to others whose early parenting experiences weren’t as smooth as mine. I imagine it’d be something like, ‘What’s she complaining about? She doesn’t realise how easy she’s got it!’ As a couple of well-meaning nurses have said, ‘Don’t mention to the other mums in your mothers group that your baby is sleeping through — most of them will have concerns about getting their baby to sleep in the first place!’

Establishing a sleep routine was a big challenge for us — it took consultation of many resources, much self-doubt, a lot of forward planning and timing, and many tears (from mum) to get to where we are today. To my husband and me it felt like hard work, and on those days when the routine fell apart despite lining feeds, sleeps and play time up perfectly, I felt defeated and the goal seemed impossible. But was it realistic to expect to find guidance, let alone a sympathetic ear, when it took her a mere eight weeks to learn to consistently sleep through the night?

One of my husband’s colleagues and his wife had their first baby a few weeks after we did. His wife and I had similar pregnancies, and I was looking forward to sharing information with her when we both had our little ones. Then my husband came home with the news that their daughter wakes and feeds every two hours. Not wanting to be seen as rubbing my good fortune in her face, I haven’t yet struck up the courage to ask her if my little one’s newest development is something she’s familiar with. (I must admit that we never asked her if she was happy to get up to her little one as much as she is, as I know many mums are. I just assumed she wouldn’t want to hear about me and mine.)

I didn’t think too much about how to parent and teach a newborn until my little bundle of joy arrived. Then, someone asked me if I’d started establishing a routine. Realising I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, I absorbed as much information as I could get my hands on, from midwives and doctors, from friends and family, and from websites such as Baby Centre and the Australian Breastfeeding Association. Interestingly, our daughter has responded on cue to what is suggested for the usual concerns, and in some instances appears to have skipped a month or so of learning and exploration and gone straight to the next milestone. While this has obvious benefits, it also means a bit of confusion, like should we consult the one-to-three-months developmental information, or start to look at what is written for three to six months?

Cases in point: our beautiful daughter’s neck muscles have always been strong (I swear she was holding her head up in the hospital). She began focusing early — we have a great photo of her intently examining her grandma’s face when she was just two weeks old. At three months of age she grabs objects in front of her and puts them in her mouth. As a result, she prefers looking at the world around her and being in the midst of the action to sitting and sleeping in her pram. While I am so proud of her development, there are times such as when I’m carrying her in one arm while negotiating her pram up an escalator in a crowded shopping centre with the other that I can’t help but lament, ‘How do you get a baby who is beyond her months to sit happily in her pram for more than five minutes?’

The best advice about parenting that I’ve been given so far is to trust my instincts. Even so, when everything is new and you’re in the middle of it all, you have doubts and questions. Because our little one sleeps so well, she has hardly ever fed more than six times in a 24-hour period (including during growth spurts), and as she’s gotten older there are days when she’ll want as little as four feeds. Even though she is happy, healthy, strong and, most importantly, gaining weight, we wondered if she was getting enough to eat, especially as everything we read says little babies generally feed between eight and 12 times a day. To add confusion, we were told that she needed to feed at least six times a day, and that we could wake her up to get more feeds in (a big ‘no’ in some schools of thought). All this accomplished was a grumpy, tired baby who refused to feed because she wasn’t hungry. Eventually my husband and I decided to let her do what she wanted to do, confident (from experience) that she’d tell us if she wanted more to eat.

New mums are encouraged to talk about their experiences and ask questions. There’s a lot of information out there for us, and a lot of people we can ask questions of. The not-so-easy part is finding the best resource for each question, especially when the question is along the lines of, ‘Would it work if we started teaching our three-month-old to sleep from 7 at night to 7 in the morning?’ (to her credit, our Baby Clinic nurse kept a straight face when she answered that one). Sometimes our friends and family didn’t have the same experience, and the books and websites we know about don’t have the answers. Sometimes trusted sources give conflicting advice. And sometimes we just want to be sensitive to other mums’ experiences.

For the first three months I oscillated between being too embarrassed to ask questions, and confused by the answers I got when I did. I’ve now learnt to take bits of advice and information from a few sources and mash them together into something that works for me. I’ve learnt to listen to my little girl — is she happy, healthy, learning and growing? Then she’s fine. And I’ve learnt to be brave and keep asking the questions, no matter how insane they sound, because someone else must have experienced the same thing too!