Next week, I have plans to embark on a getaway with my closest friend. I must admit, I don’t anticipate missing my child at all.
We’ll be away for four days and nights, enjoying our own beds, relishing hot showers daily, and sipping coffee while it’s still steaming hot. Our days will be filled with engaging adult conversations, interspersed with stretches of peaceful silence, long bike rides, and strolls through nature. I’ll drift off to sleep whenever I choose and wake up with the sunrise, at a time that feels right for me. I can even indulge in that second glass of wine, knowing that my only midnight responsibility will be to myself.
Sure, I might feel a twinge of longing for my 2-year-old during bedtime, when I usually crave the comfort of his sleepy, snuggly presence and our cherished routine of laughter and lullabies. But that’s where it ends.
From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I eagerly anticipated the chance to share the responsibility of raising my child. I didn’t want to relinquish all control, but I certainly desired a partner in this journey. (His dad, Daniel, is an exceptional co-parent, akin to the Alton Brown of fatherhood.)
The early days were particularly intense; my son endured a stroke shortly after his birth and spent his first week in the NICU. I was there, pumping milk every three hours and vigilantly watching over him for nearly 20 hours a day. I was overjoyed to finally bring him home after six days, but within 48 hours, I found myself yearning for some personal space. I managed to pump some milk, placed him down for a nap, and took a three-hour break with my husband keeping watch. The only reason I left was to alleviate the discomfort building up in my breasts.
Fast forward seven months, and my son was diagnosed with severe food allergies, which kept us mostly confined at home. Anxiety consumed me, and I often counted the minutes until my husband returned or bedtime arrived, so I could escape for a few hours into the city before returning to my nurturing duties.
Now, while my 2-year-old is flourishing and recovering from his early challenges, I still crave breaks. I need the space to think, to process, to simply exist without being attached to another human being, even if only for an hour or a day. Those moments are rare, but they are essential for me to maintain my own mental health.
It’s crucial for me to reject the notion that I’m failing as a mother simply because I need time away. I know many mothers who despise leaving their children, but I simply cannot relate.
Being a mom cannot consume my entire existence. It’s too overwhelming. And if I’m honest with myself, stepping away from my son is how I reconnect with my desire to be present. I acknowledge that this may label me as a selfish mom, but I believe it primarily keeps me sane.
So, I will relish in hot coffee, serene walks, and the freedom of being child-free for a while. When I return, I can be the attentive, grounded mother my little one needs. With a renewed spirit, I can embrace motherhood fully.
For more insights on topics like this, you can explore resources on at-home insemination kits, such as this article and this one. For those interested in pregnancy and related treatments, the NHS has valuable information to consider.
Summary
Taking breaks from motherhood is essential for mental health and personal well-being. It allows parents to recharge and reconnect with their identity beyond being a caregiver, ultimately leading to a more engaged and present parenting experience.
Keyphrase: Taking breaks from motherhood
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