Literally, as soon as I realised that, everything changed. I felt lighter than I had in ages, I suddenly had all this energy to play with Baby Bean, I wasn't in a constant state of guilt and anguish and the stubborn drive to persevere was no longer plaguing my every thought.
I feel like I can finally focus on just being her mum, rather than trying to live up to this perfect ideal of what her mum should be. In my head, this is the ideal I felt I had to reach for.
Well, let me tell you, if you are this person, then I salute you, NAY, BOW TO YOU!
You are a goddess of epic proportions and you should be given a medal. A really fucking big diamond medal.
I haven't met you yet though, which is strange considering that before Bean was born I believed you existed everywhere. I really thought that perhaps, I could even be you.
But alas, I cannot. In fact, in appears that despite the fact that this is what every mother is encouraged to be, told to be, and believes that she SHOULD BE, this perfect mum is a mythical creature who exists only in magazines and parenting books. The reality of mummyhood is far uglier, far less photogenic and definitely wouldn't sell magazines.
So, having reconciled the fact that me breastfeeding Bean to the age of 2 years and beyond is not a realistic nor achievable goal for our family, I feel my tight grasp on attempting to be a magazine mum disappearing. The guilt is sliding away with it, and with every bottle of formula I feed her, I feel more relaxed. I am becoming me again, and in the process, I am becoming her mum rather than trying to be societies version of her mum. The best mum for her, and the best mum for me. So for the first time in a very long time, Bean and I spent a fantastic, relaxed day together. She slept sometimes, and I napped then too, because I wasn't pumping. I cleaned a bit and played with her, did some baking and we even went out to the wildlife zoo together. When Hubby got home, I went out and bought a new bra and I feel fabulous.
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