Magazine disruption

MAGAZINE ISSUE NO.10
"I FELT LIKE I WAS BEING FORCED TO ABANDON
EVERYTHING I WAS—A WRITER, FRIEND, WIFE,
TRAVELLER—FOR THIS TINY, SCREAMING HUMAN."
THERE WAS JUST ONE MOMENT,
throughout my surprisingly enjoyable
pregnancy, that would really give me an
indication of what was to come.
It wasn’t that episode of Friends where
Rachel gives birth to a beautiful baby girl
and a few episodes later is back at work, as
fabulous as ever.
It wasn’t the many Instagram mummies
with their glossy hair and Seed-clad
little ones tucked neatly on their hip,
waxing poetic about the journey that
is motherhood.
It wasn’t my prenatal classes, which
focussed so much on the impending labour
rather than the aftermath.
It wasn’t even a visit to friends who had
babies, because that only ever offered a
mere glimpse of what was in store.
It was a moment at the end of my final
prenatal check-up, when my midwife made
the parting comment: “You know the
women who find motherhood the hardest?
The ones who need to have everything
‘just so'; who always need to be in control.
They’re the ones who struggle most in
those first few months.”
As a self-confessed control freak, a tiny
alarm bell triggered. Before then, I was
under the misguided illusion that somehow,
my baby would magically fit into my life,
not vice versa. This is going to be tougher than
you think, I realised.
Now when I look back at those first few
weeks post-baby, I remember running to
the mirror to put on makeup before people
visited, hurriedly trying to clean the house
while my baby screamed, and trying to
squeeze my sore, engorged breasts and
postpartum belly into my old clothes. It
sounds terribly self-indulgent and foolish,
but a part of me felt I needed to be like
those smiling, shiny-haired mothers. Look
how in control I am. I’m still me. I can do this. I
just couldn’t embrace motherhood for what
it really was, and the imperfections that
undeniably came with it.
What’s worse, I couldn’t help but think
what I knew I should never say out
loud—I want my old life back. I felt like I
was being forced to abandon everything I
was—a writer, friend, wife, traveller—for
this tiny, screaming human. My days
had swiftly gone from a job interviewing
successful business people and politicians
to feeling lucky if I had the time to drag
my aching limbs into the shower for
ten minutes.
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