My motherhood by Jenny Jacoby

The decision to try for a baby came quickly and easily. For us, the pregnancy came easily too, and the whole nine months (OK, the last six months) were a dreamy happiness. In meetings at work I’d stroke my bump and think, I’ve got a future here inside me, and I’ve got company.

 

I didn’t know what my attitudes as a mother would be like and I certainly never had a plan, but it turned out I became quite the hippy. Pregnancy yoga kept me sane and brought me very, very good friends, and I found myself planning for a drug-free labour.

 

Pregnancy, for me, was a journey towards giving birth. Not the bit that comes afterwards though, our lives as parents. After an afternoon of heavy contractions there were suddenly three midwives at my feet screaming at me to ‘PUSH! PUSH!’ and all I could think was, wait – do I really want this to be over? I’m not ready to actually have a baby!

 

I’m a hippy but I’m a realist too. Motherhood can be boring, frustrating, a chore – and that’s after the first month of living hell. The hardest thing, once the zombie sleeplessness is done, is switching from functioning person with a useful job, to being an underpaid personal assistant for the most demanding and impatient little people. I don’t mean the switch pre- and post-baby. I mean, every day of your life as a mother.

 

You have to be zen; only since parenthood have I really understood the importance of enjoying each instant as it comes. The heaven of your child smiling up at you and reaching for your hand will be replaced at any moment by a banshee in an inexplicable tantrum – but that too will pass. Children are programmed to love their parents, and being on the receiving end of that… there’s nowhere better.

 

Jenny is mama to Flora, two, and a writer and editor.

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