I lost myself; I was exhausted. I think I had post natal depression but only realised afterward. I remember it as a dark time; not that I was unhappy… I was thrilled to have my son and l loved him to death but I remember thinking ‘how many more years until I don’t have to do this anymore – how much longer?’. I was counting days, looking at the books trying to find cures for things for which there are no cures – it’s called having a baby.
I’d always been successful – in the sense that if I had worked hard I had always got there but no matter how hard I worked with my baby, he was not going to take a nap. I had no control, no matter how many books I read or charts I made. It was a real lesson in letting go; finally one day I just said ‘these spread sheets are stressing me out and I need to get rid of the stress,’ so I stopped looking at articles; I stopped trying to solve things. Feed him, change him and take him to bed – and get on with it. It doesn’t matter; he’s going to be OK. And that really released me.
I’ve learnt to just relax. I am not as competitive as I was 15 years ago. I think if I had had children in my twenties I’d have spent a lot of times comparing myself with other mums and my kid with other kids, and now I’m just over it. I’m glad I had my career, I’m glad I had my twenties to just screw things up and figure out who I was. I think I was too insecure to have a baby earlier than I have; my ego was in my job whereas now I’m in a place where I enjoy giving – giving to my son. It’s boring but I am happy, and I’m glad I did it exactly when I did it.