Live to work, or work to live?

I feel myself slipping back to the way I was two years ago. On an endless treadmill. Loving my family, knowing I should be grateful for the life I have, but hating myself nonetheless.

I get up. Get the kids ready for school/nursery. Get myself ready, not bothering to brush or wash my hair and simply tie it back into its bun. Drop the kids off, go to work. Throw myself into work, because I know no other way, but also because I can ignore how I feel outside work if I make this all-consuming. After work I collect husband and children, often from three different places. Make dinner, do bedtime. Stare at the television for an hour, then off to bed. All of this times five, then a weekend where I'm so emotionally drained that I can't engage fully in their lives. And then it begins again,

I don't want to look back on my life, the only reflection being "I was bloody good at my job". I've had enough of feeling second rate at mothering. I've had enough of being fat and fed up, good intentions beginning each week with lunchtime walks and healthy food, crashing off the wagon by Wednesday to grab the sugar and caffeine needed to make it through.

Father Badger wants me to ask to go part time or to quit, not the first time it's been suggested. I'm not comfortable with part time, nor the conversation I'll have to have to request it. I don't have the courage. I fear that part time will mean my overwhelming work ethic will lead to trying to cram full time effort into part time hours, which is not a good solution, leaving me too exhausted to benefit from the extra time at home. Quitting is terrifying in its own right, even though I think about it on every commute. I've never been financially dependent on anyone, and it'll effectively end my IT career as tech moves on so fast.

For now I'm making one last attempt at sorting myself out with minimal scary changes. Food planning, daily walks, early nights. My project manager husband is insisting on a "review" at the end of April to look for progress in my physical and mental health, because honestly it can't carry on this way.

A raw return to blogging, but I'm hoping it will be cathartic. I'm assuming no one is reading as I've been gone so long, so give me a shout if you've made it this far...

Image courtesy of radnatt at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I'm almost myself, just not quite

It's been touching to have a few people check up on me as I've been absent, particularly those who don't know me from Adam in real life (thank you Rachel and The Boy and Me).

I sat down to write many times in the last seven months and each time found myself an hour later staring at a blank page. I didn't understand why. There was so much going on in my life - back to work, two children to bring laughs and experiences into my life - yet I had nothing to say. That was reflected in my personal life. I could happily talk about nothing with work colleagues and acquaintances, but conversation ran dry with old friends.

Looking back now I can see that I had simply lost myself. I could function, I looked after my children, I threw myself back into work full time. There simply was nothing else left. Looking back at my year of maternity leave I can now see that I went into full avoidance mode: I started a peer supporter course when Badger Cub was three weeks old (obviously taking him with me); I volunteered at a new mums group at a local children's centre and spent my time listening, sympathising and giving information and advice in as unbiased a fashion as I could. If I concentrated on sorting out other people's issues then I didn't have to acknowledge my own.

Thankfully this has changed.

Maybe it was the Sertraline? I have been taking it for seven months, six of those at the relatively low dose of 50mg per day. A month ago I decided (after much research) to lower my dose to 25mg. Timing it with the onset of PMT probably wasn't the best idea but we survived the emotional onslaught and I've levelled out on the other side. The "brain zaps" in the first ten days (apparently a common withdrawal symptom) were unpleasant but have passed. I'm going to leave it at least another month and then try to come off it altogether, only not coinciding with PMT this time!

Maybe it was the CBT? I certainly think it has helped the personality in me that adores process and checklists. Being able to recognise my thinking errors and core beliefs has stopped the downward trend of negative thoughts.

Maybe it was the counselling? That was eight hours of my life I'm never going to get back... Possibly the most awkward I've ever felt, but perhaps that's the point? Having a stranger sit and wait for me to talk, to spill over with emotion, to watch me not talking. If nothing else it identified that I was angry. I was angry over the way I had to fight to break NHS red tape and birth my baby the way I wanted. I was angry that NHS policy could be so blind, so fearful of litigation and blame that they'd prefer to cut him out of me. Rather than confront that anger I diverted the energy into breech support forums, into peer support work, into anything that meant I didn't have to deal with it. The anger is diffusing. Still there but fading.

Maybe it was a combination of all of these, and also the relief that I had acknowledged the problem and was doing something about it.

I'm not quite there yet, not quite found, but I'm getting there.

Image courtesy of Arvind Balaraman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Parsley stew, anyone?

Until now we've been very lucky: both Father Badger and I have worked 8:00-4:30 and we've been home with Baby Badger soon after 5pm each day.

Father Badger started a new job this week. He seems to be enjoying himself, which is the main thing - I honestly believe that we spend far too much of our lives at work to be doing something we don't enjoy most of the time. The only downside is that they're insisting on standard hours, at least for the first few months, which combined with trains and our local bus service means he's home at 6:40 in the evening. That means it's all change in the Badger household.

It means that each day I'll do the childcare drop off and pick up; I'll do the cooking of the evening meal whilst entertaining Baby Badger. It's like 1960s role reversal, only that I'm also working a full time job. It's absolutely do-able, and I will manage, but it feels slightly daunting at the moment.

I've survived most of this week by using the crockpot - again, 1960s nostalgia anyone? Tonight's treat was beef and carrot stew with a shed-load of homegrown parsley. There's only so much stew I can eat though, even in this season.

Anyone got any tips?

Image courtesy of Graur Razvan Ionut / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Improvements and blunders

I've not written much recently because things have really been getting on top of me: stupid pressure at work including trips away from home; never ending colds; generally feeling down. I finally feel as though things are on the up.

At the weekend I had a lie in both days then I spent most of the daylight hours in the garden weeding and chopping at the hedge. I went for a jog both days. I cooked two pretty decent meals, and over the week lost a couple of pounds.

It's amazing what a difference some sleep, some fresh air and exercise and a bit of a confidence boost can have!

Today I was especially tired from the aforementioned fresh air and exercise. So much so that a) I turned up to a dentist appointment 24 hours early and b) I lodged my foot well and truly in my mouth by asking if a colleague in another office had left the business only to find out they'd died before Christmas...

To finish on a positive note, we just watched Little Miss Sunshine. I've not laughed that much in quite a while!

Image: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

A Mother’s Work Meme

This meme was started by mother.wife.me and as it's a subject I've been pondering recently I thought I'd chip in.

Rules:

1. Please post the rules
2. Answer the questions in as much or as little detail as suits you
3. Leave a comment on mother.wife.me so we can keep track of the meme
4. Tag 3 people and link to them on your blog
5. Let them know you tagged them
6. Tweet loudly about taking part (well ok, that isn’t a rule, but how about if we start a hashtag – #amothersworkmeme

Did you work before becoming a mum?

Yes. Before heading off on maternity leave I had worked in the IT industry for over a decade, building up technical skills, knowledge, a nice salary and a good reputation.


What is your current situation?

I am back working at the company I was at before my maternity leave. They have a good maternity policy so I was lucky enough to be able to take a full year's leave and return to my job.

Freestylin’ on Childcare Costs and Expectations

I work full time. I am lucky: my parents and my mother in law live locally so between them Baby Badger has two days a week with family. That's great for our bank balance, but more importantly great for her to grow up knowing her grandparents. The remaining three days are spent at the nursery on the business park where I work. It's a good nursery: the staff are engaged and enthusiastic, the standard of cleanliness is good enough without reaching obsessive levels, and the staff all know my daughter by name. I've made a point of observing out of view before I collect her and she seems to be genuinely enjoying her time. In this respect I have no qualms over our decision to use nursery time.

Standard day rate at the nursery is just over £50. Again I am lucky: I get a discount for working on the park, then I save almost 50% because I pay via salary sacrifice (saving tax and national insurance). Three days per week costs me approximately £300 per month.

Consider someone using the nursery that has to use it five days a week; someone whose employer is not forward-thinking enough to offer to offer the salary sacrifice option. That monthly bill comes in at around £1,000. That's a serious amount of money. What do you have left from your pay packet once the mortgage/rent and bills are paid? I'm guessing a lot of families wouldn't have that £1,000 available.

Father Badger and I are considering adding a second cub to the sett and I'm honestly wondering what we'll do when it comes to my career and childcare costs. We could perhaps come to an arrangement with the grandparents with regards extra help, but they're not getting any younger and it seems unfair to expect them to either give up extra days or contend with two children. I'm guessing that we're at least looking to double our childcare costs. We won't make a loss, but it's a big enough dent to wonder whether a change of approach is required.

It's ridiculous that at double the UK national average salary (2010 figure), and a household income of double that, I'm considering whether it's worth going back to work with two children in part-time childcare. Absolutely ridiculous.

And now to the second part of my rant: expectations.

Expectations of flexibility. I am writing this post from a hotel on the outskirts of Leeds, 200 miles from home. My husband and daughter are at home, 200 miles from me. It's not the end of the world, but I don't like it. I've reached the point in my career (ignoring the fact that I'm not sure what I'll do after baby number two) where I need to take on bigger projects, more responsibility, hence I'm travelling. It's not required of me, but it is expected. If I refused, it would be "ok" but I would struggle to progress any further with the remaining opportunities. Thank goodness for Skype and FaceTime - without being able to see the faces I love I don't think I could bear being away from home.

Expectations that I am no longer breastfeeding. That's probably not fair: it won't be a conscious expectation as it won't even cross their mind that I might be. I'm the first employee in a company of thousands to request somewhere to express when returning from maternity leave. I no longer need the facility but that doesn't mean I'm not feeding. I was also up in Leeds a few weeks ago when Baby Badger was so ill that she couldn't keep any food down. I literally was her only source of food but didn't feel as though I could give it as a reason to cancel my trip. Maybe I should have plucked up courage, but honestly - do you think an employer would have understood?


You're tagged!

End of rant. It's late and I should be in bed...

I am tagging:

• Beth aka @plasticrosaries as I'm guessing she's got a lot to say on the subject of trying to juggle work and motherhood.
• Menai aka @MenaiN for a different perspective as a working mum on a break as an ex-pat

Image: www.skype.com

How to feel useless

Last Thursday I was called by the nursery to pick up Baby Badger: she had a temperature of 40 and wasn't looking very happy. I rolled up with my scarcely used bottle of Calpol (we are not big on medication), got the staff to administer (yes, I wussed out) and took her home for cuddles. She perked up a bit (mainly due to repeated Igglepiggle), had some dinner and went to bed. It all went wdo so and keep an eye on her.ell until she woke up at 10pm, demanded milk then promptly threw up all her dinner.

The following day she stayed home with Father Badger, the vomiting episodes becoming more frequent until the point where not even water or breastmilk were staying in. NHS Direct advised waking every hour that night to get her to sip a little water, and Father Badger generously offered to sleep in the nursery to do so and keep an eye on her. What do you do when nothing stays in? Time to feel useless #1.

Saturday was the scary point: she would wake up, have a sip of water, then her eyes rolled up, her head slumped and she'd be asleep again. We knew she was dehydrated but couldn't get anything into her. Time to feel useless #2. We cracked and took her to the out of hours doctor who reassured us. The moment we arrived she demanded milk and spent the entire examination attached to my boob!

She's now on the mend. She's not eating much and has mainly had booby milk and water, but things are definitely improving. Time to feel useless #3... She's not eating much but happy to nurse and I'm in Leeds, 200 miles from home, for the next four nights. I want to be with my daughter and I'm stuck here with work when she needs me the most.

Being a working mum sucks sometimes.

Image: Sayan Samana / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It's time for some good luck

It's been a rough few weeks. I'm no longer wallowing in self pity like I was last week, but things have definitely been better.

As mentioned before, my employer is going through a redundancy exercise, and two weeks later and we're still none the wiser over who is at risk (and unlikely to find out for another couple of weeks). The uncertainty is hard to deal with and I've not been sleeping well because of it. I've also been sharing the various colds that Baby Badger has brought back from nursery.

Father Badger is going through some stressful times at work (not redundancy). He's also having a spell of bad luck health-wise: over the last three weeks he's had mumps, a series of nasty colds and has now hurt his achilles tendon, so he's not his usual cheerful self.

Add into the mix the daily trips we've been taking to the county hospital to see my grandmother - she had a fall and my parents are abroad, but thankfully she returned home to her sheltered accommodation yesterday - and you can see that it's been a pretty exhausting few weeks.

This wasn't, however, meant to be a whinge, particularly as I'm aware that even with all of this added together I'm still very lucky to be in the life I am in. What it has highlighted to me is just how much Father Badger and I support each other when we're going through a bad patch. It's been highlighted as we're unfortunate both to be a bit blue and we've been struggling to be that rock of stability for each other - I honestly think it's taken its toll in terms of our mood & outlook on life, and maybe even slowed down our recovery rate from the various sniffles.

It's time that luck turned around for us. We are going to beat the colds. Work will pick up for both of us, and I'm not going to worry about the redundancy unless it happens (although I may well be uploading my CV to a couple of sites, best to be prepared and all that). Positive thinking all the way.

Image: Cecelia / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Falling apart

I feel as though my world is falling apart.

Last week my employer announced a restructure. If you have worked in the corporate world you'll recognise that word for what it is: redundancies. Various figures were given: X percent of July's headcount, not including employees in unit Y. What it boils down to is that probably one in five of us in the UK are going to lose our jobs. To make it worse, because of the overall number of people likely to be affected, the company legally have to follow a consultation process that means it could be several weeks (and in the extreme case, up to three months) before we find out who is at risk.

The common sense part of me looks at what they are doing and actually approves. They are a good solid company, been around for decades, and have used similar restructures a couple of times in the past in order to stay functional and profitable in uncertain financial times. I honestly think from a business point of view that they are doing the right thing (although obviously that will be no consolation if it turns out to be me).

The career-minded part of me is irritated but not overly worried. At the risk of sounding egotistical, I am good at what I do and I know I will find a new job (also, I am not proud and would take whatever work I could find). I'm irritated because I enjoy what I do and where I do it, and it's hugely convenient in terms of location (six miles from home) and childcare arrangements.

The emotional part of me (the part that seemed to appear at the birth of my daughter) is absolutely distraught. I cannot bear the thought of going back to the long hours and commuting of my previous job. I can't imagine arriving home just before (or worse, just after) her bedtime; becoming a stranger during the week; missing out on her childhood. I don't want to be too tired to be mum. Every time I think about it I want to cry, and I've been very close to tears at work (very uncharacteristic).

I find myself hoping that the consultation period passes quickly; that those involved come to a conclusion quickly so that we can all be put out of our misery. The waiting is killing me.

Image: worradmu / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Why is it so hard to help?

I've been passionate about breastfeeding since Baby Badger arrived. My views have developed and, in some ways, mellowed since my first posts, but I do still passionately believe that all mums should be given the knowledge and support they need in order to make it a success. For that reason, I decided I would see if I could be of any help to the local breastfeeding support group.

I have no grand airs about this. I'm aware that to become a fully qualified lactation consultant (such as The Analytical Armadillo) takes years of training, but if there's some way in which I can help improve our breastfeeding rates, and also improve our culture's perception of breastfeeding, I'd really like to have that impact.

The support group helps the local community in several ways. It has someone present at the local Children's Centres at the lunchtime drop in session to help with any breastfeeding issues and queries. One member carries the on-call phone to help anyone having issues outside surgery and clinic hours, either via phone or by a home visit. A monthly antenatal class is run to introduce mums to be to the pros and cons of breastfeeding, potential problems and what a good latch might look like (the NHS midwives also run a similar monthly daytime session, again with a member of the group to assist). Lastly, the group also tries to raise awareness (asking local cafes to display breastfeeding welcome signs, etc.). I work full time so can't help with the Baby Cafe or the daytime antenatal session, and was clear about that when I joined the group, but hoped I could help with the rest.

The first obstacle I've hit is training. The group insist (as do the Children's Centres) that peer supporters have been through some sort of training. I'm all in favour of that - currently I can only advise from my own experience and what I've researched, and I've had no experience of common issues such as thrush and mastitis. I'm a smart cookie and consider myself as having good judgement, but I would be much more confident of giving appropriate advice after training. The issue is not that I don't want training but that I don't seem to be able to get it. The next local course is in January (bear in mind I've been participating in this group for four months already) over eight consecutive Mondays... 10-3! That would involve a full day of annual leave for each as it spans lunchtime, using up almost half of my annual entitlement.

It appears that being a working mum and a peer supporter is going to be quite a juggling act.

Image: http://breastfeedingpinay.wordpress.com/

I survived!

I did it. I survived my first week back at work, and so did my daughter.

Actually being at work wasn't that bad at all, in fact it almost felt as though I hadn't been away for the last year. My boss chucked me straight in at the deep end and I remembered a surprising amount! The only downside is the half hour of my 45 minute lunch break that I spend getting to the medical room to express milk, but that's my choice so I can't complain.

Baby Badger's days were variable, but on balance fine for the first week.

Monday saw her with my mother in law, happy and smiling to be left with grandma. She had a good day, plenty of playing, an outing in the pushchair, and a couple of naps. Perfect. Not a huge amount of food, predictably, and almost no interest in the milk I left. Not ideal, given that she's not putting on weight, but at least she was happy.

Tuesday was her first full day at nursery. She cried when I left. I was strong, I gave her a cuddle and a kiss and handed her over, saying I would be back later, and left. Then I cried in the reception like a big girl and went to work. I managed to hold it together and luckily the nursery called soon after to tell me she had settled down nicely. She had another good day, happily playing with a couple of naps. Again not much food and refused all the milk. Perhaps a pattern is emerging here...?

Wednesday is my parents' day. Again, she was very happy to be dropped off, and had a happy day ransacking their living room, shredding magazines and posting them through the railings of the fireguard *chuckle*. They managed to get her to eat cheese, hummus and apple - yey! They didn't even offer her the milk as "she didn't ask for it and she'd had some lunch". Not impressed. Seriously. I bit my tongue and didn't say anything, but next week I will ask them to make sure she's offered it a few times.

Thursday, and we're back to nursery again. She cried as soon as we got there, but I was strong, played for a minute and then handed her over. This time I managed not to blub like a girl, and peered through the window - she was happy playing within a few minutes - hallelujah! I left just one bottle of milk this time, saying if that they should call if they need another as I'd be pumping at lunchtime, but I didn't hold out much hope. They called! She'd glugged the lot back and I dutifully dropped the second at reception straight after pumping. It was a day of triumphs: not only did she drink two bottles, but she also ate apple sponge & custard (with her hands, to my amusement and their distress), banana cake and toast.

And then there's today... Friday's are Mummy's days. We had a lie in, plenty of booby access for Baby Badger. A leisurely breakfast, off to music group and then lunch. We cuddled up again mid afternoon for a nap and then went for a walk. Bliss!

Image: Danilo Rizzuti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It's finally happened...

... It's the last day of my maternity leave. Baby Badger is at the nursery until 2pm and I'm sat having a relaxing lunch (salad to be healthy followed by crumble because I can) and wondering what next week holds.

I blogged before about my concerns regarding going back to work, and they've not really changed. She's had a practice day with each set of grandparents and took no more than a couple of ounces of expressed milk, preferring to hold out for the source at the end of the day. She is adventurous with food, but still not eating large amounts. Taking into consideration that she's only put on 5oz in two months, I'm a little concerned: hopefully today's lunch at nursery will have gone a bit better than the first settling in session. If not we'll be continuing to shovel down full fat yoghurt after every meal (which she loves)!

I've been feeling quite upset about going back to work recently. The thought of leaving her with someone else, when she's been used to me pretty much all of every day for the last year. She's changing so much now, sometimes on a daily basis, and I'm loathe to miss out on it. She is so close to walking and I'd be disappointed not to see the first independent steps.

On a more selfish note, I've been dreading it because I'm expecting to be dead on my feet for the first few weeks. I hate mornings, and it's going to be a 6:30 start and out of the door at 7:30, with all three of us clean, dressed and fed. That seems like a herculean task! Then follows a day at work (where I spend my lunch break expressing in the medical room) before collecting Baby Badger on the way home. I'll be back before Father Badger most days, so I'll be flying solo for a while looking after her (which I assume I'll be looking forward to) and trying to get dinner sorted. And that's before I consider how on earth I get the vast quantities of laundry done.

This week, however, I've been feeling more positive. We've done several trial runs at the morning, getting up at 6:30 and ready for 7:30. We managed, although I'm pretty tired. Other than not eating enough food, the first two hour nursery session went well, as did the practice days with grandparents.

I think she's going to be ok. I just hope I am.

Image: Phiseksit / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Running out of time

Spring has sprung and the countdown has begun. Baby Badger is now over nine months old - as Father Badger puts it "she's spent more time out than in"! All of these things are lovely and exciting but it also means that my maternity leave is running out and it's causing an internal conflict I never would have predicted before becoming Mum.

There's a big part of me that wants to return to work. I've worked hard since leaving university, soaking up knowledge in my field and climbing a decent way up the ladder. The professional in me desperately wants to continue advancing my career, gaining knowledge and respect from my peers along the way. I've simply put too much into it to throw it away. I'm also a strong, independent woman and I feel very uncomfortable with the fact that I am unwaged at the moment: not because we are in financial difficulties (although obviously things have been tight over the last few months) but because I have always been on an equal footing with Father Badger in terms of what I contribute to the coffers and I somehow see that as earning me an equal footing in the decisions we make about our home and lifestyle.

The same part of me worries that I've changed on my year away from work and won't be able to pick up where I left off. The job I do requires me to care about what I do; to throw all of myself into my work, providing top customer service and going above and beyond to make sure the best possible outcome is achieved. My priorities have changed: I can't easily put in the extra hours the job sometimes requires; I assume all I'm going to want to do at the end of the day is rush out to see Baby Badger. I can count on one hand the times I've had more than four hours sleep in one go: can I really function on this much sleep? Ultimately, will I care enough about what I'm doing when it will naturally come second to my daughter? I take pride in doing a good job and can I cope with only giving 80% of myself to my colleagues?

There's the hassle factor... I am still breastfeeding and don't intend to stop as I would like Baby Badger to decide when to wean from the breast. We're doing Baby Led Weaning, which is great, but she's not yet taking in food in any great quantity so she's not yet dropping feeds. This wouldn't be an issue except that a few months ago she stopped taking expressed milk: she now flatly refuses the bottle. We're making slow progress in getting her to drink water from a variety of sippy cups so hopefully we can progress onto milk - we've got two months to get it sorted! I've had the conversation with HR regarding somewhere to pump at work (oh, the dignity) and although it took them by surprise they have come back with a sensible suggestion. This is a good thing but it does mean that I will have to pump and eat lunch at the same time. I shouldn't complain though as it's my decision to still be breastfeeding.

There's also the childcare... We are lucky enough to live near both sets of grandparents and they are covering two days per week between them. I think this is fantastic as Baby Badger will grow up knowing them well. She will be going to a local nursery for the remainder of the week. It's a good nursery, and they say they are happy with the less mainstream things I'm asking of them, namely feeding expressed milk and using cloth nappies. I am dreading leaving her there as she is experiencing really bad separation anxiety - unless Father Badger is around, I can barely make it out of the room before she screams, and I can't bear hearing her unhappy.

Then there's mealtimes. As I mentioned, we're doing Baby Led Weaning. The more I think about it, the more I am against traditional weaning. It seems crazy to shovel food down Baby Badger's throat, distracting her in order to sneak another spoonful in. Yes, I know generations have been fed that way, but it doesn't mean it's right. It's very important to me that she continues to be in control of what and how much she eats as I believe it will lead to a more adventurous palate and the ability to listen to her appetite. My worry is that either the nursery staff or grandparents aren't going to entirely "get it" and mess it up. Is this the control freak in me trying to get out?

Then there's the last little problem. I'm going to miss her. I don't want someone else seeing the first time she walks; the first proper words; her cheeky grin. Maybe this is the biggest issue for me...?

All the above makes it look as though I'm in a dilemma, but that's not the case. The terms of my maternity package mean that I'm tied to going back for at least six months (or pay back a sizeable chunk of money), so I don't really have a choice to make: I'm going back at the start of June. I guess my dilemma is convincing myself that it's the right choice. I'm working on it...

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net