As a mother, you’ll never see me on a playdate. I’ll never be down at the park sipping a latté with my mothers’ group and I’ll never ever be a domestic goddess. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids but I will never be a hands-on-mum rocking motherhood like a boss.
I’m not shy about how much I dislike motherhood. I write and speak candidly about my qualms of motherhood because when I had my first daughter, I couldn’t find one article on the internet or one piece of writing that expressed even the tiniest speck of disdain about having kids or not wanting to be a hands-on-mother.
Motherhood truly rocked my world and honestly not in a good way. I couldn’t relate to being a mother at all and it really knocked me for six. I went from a 27-year-old woman with dreams, independence and a career to a tired, worn out mother with lost aspirations and a lack of identity. I had become an empty husk of my past self. After the birth of my first daughter, my husband continued his life like normal, however, my life changed dramatically. From my former life of 9am breakfast meetings, dinner with friends, carefree weekends with my husband, I was thrust into nappy changes, constant screaming and coffee dates with my friends were strategically planned around nap times schedules. I loathed it all.
I felt I couldn’t possibly admit out loud to anyone how I felt, so I thought I would look to the internet for comradeship. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it there either.
What I did encounter were hundreds of articles about being in love with your kids, bonding and breastfeeding. Yet I felt the last place in the universe I wanted to be was sitting on the couch or hiding behind a muslin wrap at my local shopping mall breastfeeding my baby. Not only did It hurt my nipples like hell, my daughter and I literally sucked at the whole breastfeeding thing and I couldn’t find anyone to relate to.