Print This PostA few months ago, in one of my early blog posts for Dementia Researcher, I spoke about the struggles I had faced in terms of negotiating my identity as a parent. In particular, I talked about my discomfort with the notion of motherhood, and how it could ever relate to me. Six months on, I thought it was time to revisit this topic, and see how things have shifted.
New parenthood is a daunting time. I’m convinced it must be for everyone. Trying to keep this brand-new creature alive is a terrifying task – in the first few weeks whenever I went to bed, I would sit there listening to my baby breathe, just to check he was okay before I went to sleep. I hadn’t really been around a lot of babies before, and despite attending an antenatal class, paying as much attention as I possibly could, it was mainly a case of learning on the job. A job, however, that was constantly changing: the minute I felt like I had things in hand, he would suddenly learn how to roll, or require actual food rather than just milk, or stop sleeping because an emerging tooth was bothering him, and I’d feel like I was back to square one. All of these things have happened in the last fortnight, coinciding with us moving flat, him getting his own bedroom and a new bed, and my partner being away for a week with work – not ideal! When you’re trying to soothe your baby back to sleep at 3am after an hour of screaming, and Calpol definitely is not doing the trick, it’s easy to start questioning whether you’re in any way doing a good job. Even before he was born, I would have sudden panics about my ability to provide the environment he needed. About two weeks before he was born, I (exhausted and emotional) suddenly came to the realisation that I was likely a sociopath, incapable of showing my future child any warmth or affection. My ever-patient husband pointed out that that sort of panic probably wasn’t the thinking of a sociopath, and we’d likely be fine.
I’ve found that new parenthood can also be quite a lonely time. There are a lot of hours to fill in the day when you would otherwise be working, and if you don’t have friends in the same situation, it means throwing the net wider. I’m in a couple of ‘mum and baby’ WhatsApp groups – one through my antenatal class, one through my church – but as something of an introvert, spending time with people I don’t know particularly well can somehow end up making me feel a lot more isolated. Moreso, when I did spend time with other ‘mums’, I didn’t really feel like we were on the same page. As much as I love my baby, sometimes I’d like to talk about something else, or do something that isn’t so inherently baby-focused. It felt like I was playing a role – and one that I wasn’t particularly good at. In some circles there seems to be a bit of a competitive edge to parenthood. I’m not sure what the prize is, and really no clue as to the rules of this particular competition. If you say that your baby sleeps well, you may be rebuked with “Oh, you’re a new mum – you just wait for the sleep regression”. If you say they sleep badly then you can guarantee the other’s sleeps worse. You can compete over how many classes your baby is enrolled in, how early they’ve achieved their milestones, not to mention the depths of your birth trauma.
Feeling dispirited, for a few months I was very much a lurker in these WhatsApp groups, not really responding to messages, and avoiding any of the activities suggested. After a while I felt kind of bad about this, so made an effort to respond to the offer of attending a stay and play session. Evidently, I was responding to say that I didn’t want to go, but felt I should offer a suitable rationale: that I was attending baby cinema, which obviously anyone would be more than welcome to join me for (although ideally at this stage they wouldn’t!) at a cinema two London boroughs over. I felt that this struck the right balance of seeming welcoming and open to new friends, whilst not actually being an overly appealing offer. To my absolute horror, a girl I didn’t know replied immediately to say that she would join me. I had not anticipated this. After a few months of effectively being on my own every day (with the exception of meeting up with colleagues for lunch) I was now being expected to socialise.
To cut a long story short, I shouldn’t have worried. After months of feeling like a complete anomaly, I was relieved to find someone who was on the same page – someone who would more happily take her baby to a gallery or the cinema than enrol in countless classes. Turns out my approach to maternity leave and parenting wasn’t so bizarre after all.
Another pleasant surprise has been how I feel about all the hours spent with my baby. Before leave, I have to confess that I felt jealous of my husband being able to continue with his work, while I felt I would be somewhat ‘stuck’ at home with a baby. Six months in, and still on maternity leave, a number of parents from our antenatal class have already enrolled their babies in childcare so as to give themselves a break. I’m pleased to find that this isn’t something I’ve particularly needed or wanted – possibly because I can quite happily integrate my baby into my usual activities. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I feel guilty about my return to work later in the summer, but I will miss spending so much time together. Hopefully he’ll greet me with the same excitement in the evening as he does my partner when he returns from work.
All this to say, while parenthood – and specifically motherhood – didn’t seem like the most natural fit for me, it is certainly a role I have grown into. There are different ways of performing that role; one size needn’t fit all. I’m pleased to say that I still feel like me, with all those same interests and peculiarities, but those are things that I can invite my child to be a part of, rather than to replace.
Emily Spencer
Author
Emily Spencer is a PhD Student at University College London looking at improving how GPs communicate with people with dementia and their family carers about their future care. Emily previous had a 5 year career break to pursue a career as a musician, and has previously undertaken research on improving the care people with dementia receive from their GP practice, as well as end-of-life and palliative care provision in the community. Emily is also a new mum and will be writing about her experiences navigating motherhood and a research career.
Adam Smith
Dementia Researcher
Dr Yvonne Couch
Dr Jodi Watt