I had my six week check today. It was a transforming experience, so different to the crazed meeting with my first child, and more impressively so different to the doctor’s appointments when I was pregnant.
My GP saw the date which has a fortuitous look to it 11.1.11. She’s the least sentimental seeming person I’ve ever met – forgoing fluffiness for straight shooting and straightforward kindness. She said, ‘I wish I could have had a time machine when you were in the middle of your pregnancy and brought you forward to right now’. The pregnancy appointments she was referring to were ones where I was in a bad place, mostly with antenatal depression. I wish we had had a time machine too. Her feeling was if I saw myself I would know it wasn’t as cataclysmic as I feared. I agree.
I’m tired, yes, worried about feeding and weight, yes, finding my way with two children and feeling I have no idea what I’m doing almost all the time, of course. But miserable? heartbroken? empty? desolate? losing a battle I don’t understand? Not so much, actually. I’m hoping it stays this way, and am trying to enjoy typing it out and feeling this way, for now. Depression, more baby steps than a 13 monther.
In a coincidence as neat as the date I was also asked what advice I’d give to my pre-pregnancy self. So much, it deserves another full post. However, I’ll give a starter for three and finish the list more comprehensively some day soon (before 11 minutes past 11 pm has passed, which is when I’m aiming for posting). They go something like this:
Hey, pre-pregnancy thatwoman you are in there, somewhere, and you will find yourself again.
You haven’t lost your life, you have a new and different life but it is a life.
Nothing lasts for ever! This is the biggest solace of Motherhood, but also the reason to savour every good second and not waste time wishing any of the stages you all go through are over.