Photos by Matthew Pedley
O— was born at 5pm; it was, as far as births go, an easy birth. I thought I was ready to go home that night. My doctor looked at me sideways and ordered me to stay. I ended up staying two nights and went home on day 3 at 8am, chomping at the bit. R— had been staying with Mum and they came over at 9am. The sun was out, and it seemed like a good idea to do the laundry and clean the house a bit. I couldn’t nap; there was too much to do.
By day 5 I was still feeling like Superwoman. I decided to stop taking the painkillers as I suspected they made me feel more invincible than I really was.
At two weeks, M— went back to work. R— turned two and hell broke lose. Everything I did was wrong. Naps and nursings were always a struggle, days were long and full of compromises, and I hadn’t slept in years. I felt like I was drowning in Nothing Ever Gets Done Land.
At six weeks, I woke up and found that I didn’t want to be alive.
Ever since my maternity leave ran out, we’ve been slowly eating into our savings. We’re lucky to have had decent automated savings habits before kiddos, so we have a big buffer, but for a family who ran on a platform of sustainability and responsibility (both environmentally and fiscally), the hypocrisy of the situation was too obvious to ignore.
M— keeps reminding me that when I go back to work, things will look up. But taking out a debt against my future self doesn’t sit well with me. Further, it bothers me that we’re not living within our means – something we preach whenever the topic comes up – especially with M— earning a really decent wage.
Besides, what if I don’t want to go back to work?
I made these itty bitty underpants for R a while ago, and they’ve seen some good “action”… Pretty sure he wet them on the very first day, and last week while we were visiting granny and opa, he had a number two accident in them! :(
They’re made from a couple of my old shirts and are 3% stretchy. The fit is pretty fantastic, even though the finishing is haphazard at best.
R is averaging about one accident a week, usually when he’s had a nap in the carseat. When he needs to go he starts pinching his crotch and looks very serious.