The Mum Manual

We don’t need a manual for our babies as mothers. We need one for ourselves.

Two weeks ago, my baby boy turned one - and as he’s now walking, he’s officially not a baby anymore, but a toddler. It’s been a wild year and something I’m really aware of, is that he might be just one year old, but so am I as a mum. And just as he’s had to learn how to hold his head up, put one foot in front of the other and make sense of this world, so have I.

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Most of us have heard the phrase, “kids don’t come with a manual”. I never really liked that saying because, well…I don’t read manuals (which means I take WAY longer to do things because I just love to do things the hard way). The thing is, that I don’t need a manual for Jackson. I can work out what he needs by observing him and learning his language. And I don’t know, but I feel like I’m not alone in this…

We don’t need a manual for our babies as mothers. We need one for ourselves.

Because EVERYTHING changes, and I mean, everything. Some for the better and some for what feels like the worst. And while some things are common knowledge and I like to think I prepared myself well, there were still things that blindsided me.

So I thought I’d share some of the things I’ve learnt along the way.

1. It gets progressively harder

   There are loads of sayings people will share with you - often unsolicited and when you’re feeling shit and just want to be able to whine about how shit you feel - and one of them is it doesn’t get easier, it just gets different.

   
   Honestly, it feels like some kind of sugar-coating instead of saying, shit gets harder. At least for a while until you get to grips with it (by which time things’ll change again anyways *eye-roll*).
   
   The first 6 months as a mum were blissfully easy for me. We co-slept (which meant I slept), I could carry him around in the baby carrier all day and he’d sleep peacefully on demand and didn’t really do much beyond sit and coo and gurgle. Yes, I’m lucky I didn’t have a colicky baby, or a so-called ‘cry baby’, but still. It felt easy. As soon as he started crawling however, that changed. No longer could I pop him on a rug and do my thing, or have a conversation with most of my attention. And once he started walking? Forget about it.

   
   Of course it’s still fun and amazing and and and…but I’m not kidding myself that it’ll get easier when he can talk or goes to Kindergarten. Yes, it’ll get ‘different’ but I expect it to feel harder, too.
   

2. People stop caring after the newborn stage

   Okay, that’s a dramatic title, I admit. It’s less that people don’t care and more that life goes on and I guess people think you’re finding your groove and getting on with it and maybe don’t need them as much anymore. When your baby is born, friends come over with cooked food and offer to hold them so you can nap or shower. There’s huge emphasis on post-natal mental and physical health as you adjust and, in general, more resources and visibility/care in society.
   
   But, as I mentioned above, the 6/7 month turning point was tough. Having a baby who now crawls/walks/eats things off the floor and chokes/gets past all of your baby proofing means you carry so much more mental load than before. Your freezer is now empty of pre-cooked meals and you’ve been at this, without a break for months. The blissful new baby hormones have gone and you’re in the day to day. A few months ago, you’d rather have stuck pins in your eyes than give up cuddle time with your fragrant new baby but now, you’d jump at the chance to do so now (and this is with a hands-on partner!).

   
   I’m going to go out on a limb and say that support is needed for at least the first few years. Not just when the baby is there, but while they’re growing, getting more demanding and will-full too.
   

3. You need friends who aren’t mums too
   There’s a lot of emphasis on finding your mum crew, and there is SO much gold in that. They get it, because they’re there too. Which is kind of the problem. You need friends who can pop over and take your little one to the playground when they’re going wild and your partner’s at work and you just need a moment to yourself. And a mum friend with a baby/toddler who’s doing the same thing probably won’t have the capacity to do that. Also, it is so nice to talk about other things than mum/baby stuff. To be yourself for a while with someone who knew the you before the baby came along.
   

4. Your relationship will change

   It’s impossible for it not to. The question is how and to what extent. Get ready for gender roles to be challenged, or intimacy to drop off the face of the earth, or all your long-standing issues to come up constantly, or to hate the fact they get to go to work or play 5-a-side on a Sunday, or needing couples counselling before you kill each other. I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had where even rock-solid relationships get rocky. Mine, too. You can love someone until the ends of the earth, but there’s a reason why so many relationships end when kids come along. It’s hard work that tests everything.
   

5. Therapy is essential

   But I’m also aware, not easily accessible for many. I’m grateful to be here in Germany where access is better than the UK. There is SO much stuff that comes up as a new mum (in case you haven’t got that memo yet!), especially in my case, inner child issues. Familial patterns, romantic patterns, mental patterns, all the patterns and all while being in what can feel like survival mode, with a brain that’s changed and your heart (your kid) being outside your body.
   

6. Your body can become your saving grace

   Sure, it’ll change. Boobs get saggy, nipples get blisters, belly gets blamange-like, feet get bigger and pelvic floor takes a holiday. Or maybe, as in my case, the tilt of your pelvis might change so things like child’s pose are a lot less comfortable than before. It’ll feel at times like your body doesn’t belong to you and you may well under-nourish it in comparison to life pre-baby. Taking care of it might feel like the last thing you have time for. But it IS your ally. Listening to its aches, pains, needs to stretch/move etc can give you a moment of rest and reconnection. When you’re IN your body, you’re OUT of your head. You can drop the mental load, even if it’s just while you do a quick forward fold. And that can be a saving grace on a tough day.
   

7. Two things can be true at the same time

   You can be grateful and still complain. You can be consumed with your baby and still need space from them. You can be exhausted and wish for alone time and still crave adult company. Juxtapositions are everywhere, and they’re normal.
   

8. Becoming a mum is a long process

   I’m reading a lot about Matrescence at the moment, which is the theory likening becoming a mother to adolescence. And it is fascinating. We know our bodies change and our hormones change and our place in the world changes. We know that becoming a mum (or parent in general) is a huge initiation. So why is it expected to be ‘done’ in 6 weeks, or 6 months? My therapist told me to give it 5 years for it to truly land in my being and I think that’s a fairer estimation.

   
   There is so much pressure to get back to normal - which is bonkers when normal no longer exists. There’s only this new version of it that you and your family are navigating together.

I reckon, I should put together an actual manual because there are a hundred things I could think of. Which leads me to another point: accept the limitations of what you can do, whether its with your time, energy, body or anything else.

So. Until I get to those other points, if you’ve got any of your own, please do share!

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