I have a confession to make.
When I returned to work after Christmas at about 9 weeks pregnant, I sat and counted the working days left until maternity leave began.
Is that wrong?
It’s not that I hated my job in any way, but I was so excited to become a mum, to start a new chapter of my life and if I’m honest, I was so flippin’ tired in that first trimester, I would have done anything to stay at home for a few weeks.
I slowly ticked off those days on the calendar on my desk as my tummy swelled and our excitement grew with it, and 28 weeks later, it was time to leave the office.
Again, I will admit the huge relief I felt at that stage. I’d been lucky enough to work from home a few days a week, but the travelling and sitting at a desk all day and the everyday stress that a normal job brings was taking its toll.
That was two and a half weeks ago and so far, maternity leave has been anything but relaxing. But it has been exciting.
The first week was spent sorting the final throes of a house purchase, and making a makeshift nursery in our spare room just in case we haven’t moved in time for baby.
And since exchange last Wednesday, it has been all about packing and cleaning in preparation for completion next Tuesday.
But along the way, I seem to have lost my sense of identity a little bit.
I’m not sure what I am any more.
I haven’t left my company, so in a funny way, I am still a consumer marketing manager. Although I’m not ‘practising’ at the moment.
I’m kind of a funny mixture until the baby arrives, of a mum-to-be, crossed with a housewife, who has blogging as a hobby (thank goodness!)
I feel a little lost. I’ve worked full time all of my life, so not having a role as such, or anything to get up for in the morning, is a really alien concept to me.
Sometimes I feel guilty if I spend an hour watching trash TV, or don’t get much done in an afternoon. Mr M is out at work all day, so I feel lazy. But then I am housing our baby at the moment and it’s pretty damn tiring.
I’ve met with friends to catch up with their lives and update them on house and bump news, and realise I don’t have much else to talk about. I then pray that I don’t turn into one of those people who only ever talk about their children and don’t realise when they are boring people to tears.
And then I sympathise with those mums, because that has become their lives, and what is important to them.
But they, and I, are still the people we were before we became mums, or mums-to-be.
We still have the same sense of humour. We still love the same things on TV and the same hobbies and pastimes, it’s just that our focus has shifted. It has to.
Perhaps I’ll feel more at ease once Little R-M has arrived and my days will be filled with looking after and getting to know our new baby.
Maybe it’s just odd because it’s a transition period.
I know one thing. And I will hold onto it. I should be proud to have got here. Thankful to have got here. And I certainly am so excited to be on the brink of our new life as a family of three. As women we make new life happen, and that makes us amazing.
So whether I am someone’s wife. Someone’s mum-to-be. A housewife. Or just Katie still. I’m working on being content in knowing that I have a new life growing inside me and that maybe I should give myself a break.
