When I was trying to get pregnant, I made a choice to quit my full-time job.
I remember the reactions I received from some of my closest friends and family. No doubt they thought I was flat out nuts, and to be perfectly honest, their reasons were valid.
I had been very fortunate to land a once-in-a-life-time position as a publicist for a very well-known company in Melbourne, and to leave after two years when I was really starting to get established seemed crazy.
But, my husband and I had made a sea change, and I was close to burn out with a four hour commute each day. So, with tears in my eyes, I decided to take the leap into freelancing, and began working remotely from home. All I needed was a laptop, WI-FI and a strong coffee to get the job done.
It was this style of work that I had envisaged for when I became a mum.
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In my head, I had a really naïve view of juggling remote work with a baby. Think Dawson Leery, blue skies mentality.
It was simple, I thought. I would work during naps, and schedule meetings during those times. And if any work didn’t get done in that time? Well, I would smash that out in the evenings.
I remember talking to one of my close girlfriends who has two young kids aged five and two. I was so confident with my plan and how I would manage work and mum life. She didn’t explicitly say it, but I could tell she was concerned.
I shrugged it off. I will make it work – how hard can it be? Right?
When my little girl Lizzie came into the world, I was totally obsessed with this beautiful, squishy baby that I had created.
The newborn bubble was challenging, exciting and wondrous. Like all new mums, I had my struggles, in particular, that sense of identity and where I was going to fit in this new world.