Monday, April 25, 2016
I'm feeling a bit redundant and sad at the moment.
Redundant because I am tired, can't perform at 100% at work, feeling like the world is going on without me, and in general, I find it hard to "check out" even if everything in my body is telling me to.
I just can't not be involved in everything, and I just feel like I'm kind of the fat, pregnant lady sitting in the corner, not able to contribute on everything anymore, because I also leave work at 5pm on the dot to rush and see my son.
Being the best at two things, mother and career, while pregnant, is an impossible feat. But it still makes me lie awake at night and wonder if it's all going to be OK.
Last night, I tossed and turned - like how an elephant would. With effort. I have to wake up to turn my belly nowadays, there's nothing natural about the way in which I have to move while sleeping.
All the thoughts were jumbling around, the usual thoughts that keep me awake at night, like, will we get this house, will we sell our flat, will we get our mortgage, will my baby be healthy and fine, can I ask for more scans starting now. Then, is any stab at making a contribution to society now gone forever? Being a working mum to one is difficult enough, but two? Is my career all but completely lost?
I used to be that girl who got a book deal at 26, and got head-hunted for a job at one of the most successful companies in the world.
These feats are nothing in comparison to being a mother, I love being a mother, in fact, perhaps too much so. Being a good mother now takes precedent over everything I do; nothing is more important to me.
But I still feel sad and redundant. When everyone else goes for drinks together after work, but I can't because I'm pregnant and I need to get back to see my baby off to bed.
When there's a late, but important, meeting I can't join because I need to pick up my baby from nursery.
I can't fly to America for a big conference next month, alongside the rest of the team, as I'm too big/pregnant.
I don't feel like I have my finger on the pulse; everyone knows more stuff than I do these days, because everyone else has more time to know these things.
These are my choices, and I wouldn't have it any other way, don't get me wrong. My biggest priority are my children, hands down. But there's no doubt I miss out on all the things I used to love about my career - the team bonding, the gossip, the fun.
And for someone who likes to over-achieve, and who likes to pull out all the stops, it's quite hard to embrace the back seat.
Then there's something else happening. I'm currently poring through old videos of Sebastian when he was a little baby, and going through all of his baby clothes as I try to nest and somehow figure out a way of carving out some space for our new baby girl, if we are still to be in our flat when she arrives.
Folding and refolding his old baby clothes, smelling them. Hating to part with some of them, but know I have to because she won't wear something with tractors all over it. (Well she would, wouldn't she. It's just me wanting to put her in dresses and pink cashmere...)
I'm mourning him as a baby. I want Sebastian to always be my baby, but he's not going to be my baby anymore. And he isn't.
He now says, "Bye mummy, see you later!" when I drop him off at nursery; the clingy stage was far from ideal, and it was heartbreaking leaving him there crying, but I also feel like he is suddenly independent and doesn't need me around so much anymore.
I also know, that if I have a healthy, bonny baby in July, this will be the last time. Which means I'll never have a little boy baby again. This all sounds so silly, but because I love little boys so much, I am sad that I'll never have the chance to have another baby boy again. I only want two children. In some ironic way, I have now managed to have 3 children, but you know what I mean.
I miss my baby boy, and I am feeling completely emotional that I'll never get these years with him back.
All I can do is try to plod forward - but try, I mean try and not bang my head against a wall out of frustration because I can't organise or plan anything right now - and focus on my growing baby girl.
I can't wait to meet her. If only my heart didn't feel so sad for Sebastian.
Is this all normal? Probably not.