Diary of a back-to-work mum
How do you manage to get your life in gear to re-enter the world of
work once you've had a baby? Read, Fiona Summers, countdown to returning
to work for some great insights!
 The
end of the summer is nigh, and I feel like a schoolgirl again. I'm 33
and the dread of Autumn is upon me. I am due back at work in a month's
time. Son number two - Harry - was born in February, so I have spent most
of 2006 on maternity leave.
I work evenings and weekends on the newsdesk of a regional
newspaper. The hours are unsociable, but combine well with motherhood.
Right now, though, sleep is a concern. Harry will be seven months when
I go back - the same age my older one, Ben, was. But Harry is still waking
at night. I usually get home at 1am, so the thought of dealing with a
crying baby a couple of hours later is pretty horrifying. My boss has
agreed to let me start a few weeks later if need be. I have until the
end of the month to decide.
The other thing is breastfeeding. Unlike his older brother,
this little one is rather good at it. He is a quick and efficient feeder,
puts on weight nicely and is a very calm and contented little man. Seems
a shame to rock the boat…but I simply cannot contemplate going back to
work and breastfeeding. I need to leave him with the childminder, and
won't have the time to express all that milk. I've already dropped two
feeds, but am doing things gradually.
I woke up feeling as if I'd been in a fight. I dropped another feed yesterday,
so one boob feels bruised and the pain is worsening. I'm tempted to feed
through it, but apparently that just increases the supply.
The pain has subsided after a very hot bath. I've decided to let things
settle down a bit before ditching another feed.
Harry is oblivious to my pain. He's sitting up (with support)
and has started clapping his hands - three months earlier than Ben did.
He's been on solids for three weeks and is yet to discover a vegetable
he doesn't like. Today he tried fruit for the first time - he had a look
of pure heaven on his face!
We're down to two breastfeeds a day - first and last thing. I feel
sad about giving up as I will miss that closeness. Harry, though, is not
fussed. In the morning he tends to pull off and check out what else is
going on. I steer him back several times and eventually give up. In the
evening he falls asleep at the breast. Half an hour later he wakes up
screaming for a top-up bottle.
I did my last night breastfeed last night, which feels a bit strange.
No sign of Harry sleeping through yet. I'm still planning on returning
on September 10. Slowly, slowly I'm reintroducing myself into the 'real
world' and getting my rusty brain in gear. In between running around after
these two, sterilising bottles and making up purees, I've been trying
to read the papers to catch up on current affairs
Ben is still on holiday from nursery which means I'm entertaining two
of them full-time. The wet weather doesn't help. Meanwhile, Harry's settling
in at the childminder. She's wonderful and there's a lovely atmosphere
at her house. Nevertheless, it's hard to entrust my baby to somebody else.
Besides childcare, I still need to transform myself from
tired mum to smart professional. It's a challenge, but I've started looking
forward to it. Whenever I feel nervous, I remind myself of a conversation
I had with a friend before going back last time. "Why are you dreading
it?" she asked. "You get lunch hours and coffee breaks!"
A week to go and I'm panicking. I've had my hair tied back for most of
this year. I've been wearing the same work shoes since… um… 2001, and
they're letting in rain. I haven't dared venture into my office wardrobe…
I finally mustered up the courage to try on my old work clothes. Not the
normal, pre-pregnancy outfits, but the big stuff. A pair of black trousers
that were falling off before, now barely fit. Not great news. I rediscovered
two pairs of trousers from early pregnancy. Mercifully, these are OK,
so I'm going to leave the boys with the childminder and go out and buy
things to mix and match with.
My shopping trip was mildly successful. I came back with a bag, a couple
of shirts and a necklace. No shoes, unfortunately.
Still, I'm feeling top of the world as Harry has started
sleeping through until 6am. Perhaps my mother's nagging concerns - "he's
hungry, give him something to eat" - were actually right. He's on three
'meals' a day now and has slept through for four consecutive nights. Could
this become a habit?
The butterflies are fluttering furiously. I had an early morning hairdresser's
appointment. She chopped about five inches off, leaving me with a proper
hairstyle. Bizarrely, I have become quite obsessed with this appearance
issue. Work itself doesn't worry me as much as the fear of looking frumpy
and mumsy. It's ridiculous.
THE BIG DAY! My first shift back was disorientating. There are loads of
new faces, and the reaction from those I know was decidedly odd. A few
asked what I'd had (one even asked to see a picture), but the majority
of my colleagues - who are mostly male - glanced up and mouthed a silent
hello. One senior journalist said he hadn't seen me for a while and asked
where I'd been. I reminded him that I'd had a rather large bump last time
we met. Who says you need to be observant to be a journalist?
I worked yesterday and am there again tonight. It feels like I never left.
Nobody really asks about the baby, which is strange but also refreshing.
It's good to engage in conversation as me, and not somebody's mum. The
work is straightforward. Even with the added responsibilities of a second
child, I'm essentially the same qualified person. The difference, however,
is that I have no time to get sucked in to office politics. I deal with
the kids, the house, get dressed, get out the door and get on with it.
Photo by Anna Baria
Where to next?
|
