My husband texted me from work one day and asked me how my day was going, so I sent him this photo.
This completely flattering, raw, unedited photo.
I felt bad the second I sent it because he was working and he didn’t need to feel guilty for being there, but I needed to tell someone just how hard I was finding it all. I felt out of my depth, I was hard on myself, I set high expectations.
I tried to try imagine what it would be like, walking through the door here after work. After normal adult conversations, a laugh, a tune on the radio on the drive home, to nappy chat, dinner not on, a frazzled wife with a suggestion of resentment towards him.
Which makes no sense I know.
He was/ is my rock.
And it was also insanely beautiful too, that exhaustion was filled with love. But I soon realised that if I didn’t get dressed before my husband left for work then I probably wouldn’t.
Memories on Facebook would pop up of us travelling, our home in Melbourne adorned with furniture that wasn’t baby proofed. And I felt a twist of nostalgia, just as I do now when I look at photos of them younger, just as you do with any adjustment.
The shock of your new identity can be like the silent cry before the scream.
You’re allowed to miss that friend you thought moved overseas but actually just didn’t pick up the phone for a while because she was finding herself instead.
You’re allowed to miss her.
It’s normal for it to still feel a bit foreign sometimes.
It’s normal for your relationship to be tested and closer than ever.
It’s normal for you to feel lost and found all at once.
It’s normal to miss the freedom of your old life while they’re screaming at you but still not want to change a thing.
It’s normal to be winging it all with the best intentions.
We don’t need to have it all together to bring ourselves together when we need to.
Normal got lost in the “perfect”, and there’s no such thing as the “perfect mum”.
But you are the perfect mum for them, just as you are.