When I was pregnant, I was constantly told that my life would be over. Since the birth of my daughter, I can confirm that this statement is 100% true. My life is over. That thing that I called MY life. That portion of existence when I lived for me, and me alone. Say goodbye to late night partying, spontaneous lunch dates and shopping sprees. Boozy nights out are replaced with early morning cuddles in bed. Date night dresses are replaced with comfortable t-shirts. And long conversations with friends are replaced with brief and simple text messages I’ve written from the toilet.
Welcome to the life of parenthood.
Hearing that final 6.30am alarm on Friday morning’s was glorious. It meant that tomorrow would be Saturday and I would get to sleep in and rise when I wanted to. Not anymore. My daughter wakes at 6.30 EVERY morning, whether there is an alarm or not. Like clockwork. She doesn’t recognise the difference between the days and is compelled to cry until I drag my tired butt out of bed to attend to her.
Did someone say let’s do drinks and tapas this weekend? A night out can still happen, it’s just finding the energy to do it. The babysitter needs to be booked. The baby bag needs to be packed. Then there’s the māmā guilt that kicks in because rather than spend quality time with my child, I’m out attempting to relive my youth. Once out, two drinks later, I’m ready for bed. 12pm. Party-pooper. Epic fail!
Yes, my life is over. It’s now a little less crazy. I’ve missed nights out on the town (and woke up hangover free) and I can’t remember the last time I watched a TV show that didn’t involve Dora the Explorer. Since becoming a māmā, I’ve realised that I can live off less sleep, I can cook an entire meal one headed, and, most of all, that my heart has the amazing capacity to love as much as I love my baby. My life of being a māmā has only just begun. And it is the best life imaginable.