I used to have to book a time in with my husband for him to watch the babies, so I could have a shower.

I think I’ve had my hair cut once every 8 to 10 months since becoming a mum.

If I managed to clean my teeth AND remembered to moisturise my face in the morning, I was on to a winner!

Time alone? Sorry, what’s that?

A holiday? Don’t be absurd, I don’t fancy spending a boat load of money being somewhere unfamiliar, with no toys, few facilities, all of us sleeping in one room with neighbours either side, if my kids kick off a tonne (which they very well may do!) And a plane ride, with 2 littles? Nope.

Friends? Yes please! Let’s book an evening in… oh but wait, I’m dead on my feet by 8pm so, can we wait a while?

But guess what?! It’s not like that forever. Huzzah!

I read loads of things in the early days (years) about how important it is for new mums to maintain a self-care routine, to make time for ourselves. It was one of the things the GP said to be when I was very low, before prescribing me some anti-depressants. And I agree that of course it is important. But for me, in our personal circumstances, it simply wasn’t possible. There can be a very real sense of losing yourself in those first couple of years, and it’s really really hard to navigate. In fact, you don’t really ‘navigate’ it, you just plod through each day, with random little crying outbursts, wondering where the ‘old’ you has gone. It’s not really something I even consciously thought about all that much, but when every moment of your life is now entirely focussed on someone else, it’s a very natural (and quick!) progression to lose any focus on you.

I’ve seen some really lovely pieces of creating writing on social media where people have managed to brilliantly capture the extreme emotions of the loss of yourself, but the love for your baby. And whilst that overpowering love for what you have created in your own body is worth every single moment of struggle, whatever your own personal context for that struggle may be, I want to focus this post on you.

If you’re in those first couple of years and still feel like you’re in the pit, and you’ve no idea who you are right now, or if you feel like life as you knew it is over forever, I get you. They are such powerful feelings and they are so valid. It’s the reality you are living each and every day, and it matters that you feel it. You matter. Yes, you still matter. Mum guilt will whisper that you don’t any more, but it’s a lie.

Of course not every new mum feels this, but I suspect that a fairly high proportion will do to one degree or another.

It can feel like not even your body is your own anymore. From pregnancy where it can be uncomfortable and unpleasant for a million different reasons, to breastfeeding, contact naps, baby-wearing, being grabbed at, having your hair pulled, your nipples bitten, not being allowed to sit down, being randomly hit because tiny babies can’t control their limbs yet, or being intentionally hit because your toddler is cross with you, can’t go to the toilet alone, being watched in the shower, being touched all the time. If I had a pound for the number of times I’ve just wanted to scream ‘can you just leave me alone!’ we could afford a holiday, with childcare! 😉

It’s real, but it doesn’t last forever.

My eldest is 4 in June, and my youngest was 2 in November. They are 17 months apart so there was no reprieve between them. And it’s just now that I feel that I have the physical autonomy again, and the mental capacity to think about losing my baby weight, wearing a little makeup, and maybe even getting my nails done. If you know me, you’ll know I’ve never been one for glamour even before children, and some mums have managed to keep their nails nice and the mascara on even through babyhood! I couldn’t do mascara, I cried too often. But for me it feels really huge. I’m tired of looking tired. And now I have the energy to make the efforts I really want to make.

Everyone’s story is different, and everyone feels the losses differently, but what we all have in common is that there is loss. The losses are worth what is gained, but that doesn’t invalidate the losses.

Here is a short and certainly not exhaustive list of what I personally grieved the loss of:

Sleep

Physical autonomy

The ability to think rationally as much as I used to

Internal emotional stability

Self-control with food and drink

Sponteneity

Date nights

Hanging out with my friends

Photography

The cinema

Energy or time for playing my guitar / keyboard / bass at home or in a band

This is a list of what I gained because of the sacrifices:

My very own little family. And I would do it all again.