Timothy - Mum face: the memoir of a woman who gained a baby and lost her sh*t

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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

FIRST EDITION

Grace Timothy 2018

Cover layout design HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Cover photographs Andrew Brown/Shutterstock.com

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Grace Timothy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008271008

Ebook Edition February 2018 ISBN: 9780008271015

Version: 2018-02-09

This book is dedicated to my girl, of course. Kid, you made me as much as I made you, and the world is so much better with you in it. I love you. Thanks for your patience, your joyousness and your helpful notes. Youre already wise and funny beyond your years. Im excited about you, bubs go get it.

I attempt to sit still, to look as relaxed and open as possible, but Im on one of those chairs that leans back on a bendy frame. You know the ones? That kind of plastic-looking blonde wood with a creamy-coloured leather cushion. I looked it up online after our session its from IKEA (obviously) and its called Poang, which is Swedish for point. As in, whats the point? I think people buy them as nursing chairs, too.

Well, I would have lost a nipple if Id tried to breastfeed in this chair, let me tell you. My stomach muscles were shot to hell once Id given birth and Id have been about as steady on a rocking chair as a drunken eel. Plus, my vagina was so mashed up, the idea of grinding it back and forth on a beech veneer would have broken me for good. I definitely rocked in those early days, but it was more of the rocking-in-a-dark-corner type of move, deprived of sleep and a functioning pelvic floor. The sort you can do on completely immobile furniture or even the floor.

You have to be so cocky to make one of these chairs rock gently and comfortingly, and not throw you off like a spooked horse. I am not cocky or relaxed in this scenario, and have to slam my feet down suddenly to steady myself. Im aware its made me look uneasy. One false move and you look like you cant handle it. This chair is basically a metaphor for motherhood and the predicament I find myself in now.

I am sitting here in a strangers living room with no shoes or socks on. Bit weird. Its OK, Im actually here for a nice bit of reflexology, with a birthday voucher from my mum and Im finally getting round to using it six months later, on the day it expires. You deserve a bit of a treat, darling, shed told me at the time, You look a bit knackered. Weird way to kick me when Im down, I think, smiling through clenched teeth at the thought of trying to fit in this so-called treat, and of the new electric toothbrush Id hinted at for three weeks. But my mum volunteered to babysit and now here I am on Pats Poang, answering her questions about my medical history.

Im an easy customer in this respect no operations, no medications, no family history of diabetes. Uneventful pregnancy and straight-forward vaginal delivery. Couple of stitches, nothing to write home or down on a form about. I dont have so much as a high blood pressure or a tennis elbow, so we whizz through the checklist. A nice little foot rub, I think to myself, Might be awkward when she finds the verruca I picked up at BabySwim, but otherwise, Ill just sit here, relax, be serene Then she says it:

And how about your emotional wellbeing, how are you feeling right now?

I smile, a smile I plaster on my face, which should say Im fine! But usually makes people take a step back and ask, Are you sure? from a safe distance. Its become my MUM FACE the mask that covers up the underlying cocktail of anxiety and bewilderment which has been simmering since I gave birth nearly three years ago. But this time, it slips:

I would say well, I am maybe a bit anxious. Well, a lot. And most of the time, too.

Oh? She doesnt seem surprised, And whys that?

Mainly because I love my daughter so much Im terrified Ill lose her or fuck it all up for her. I dont think I was ready to have kids and I have literally no idea what Ill do when she starts nursery because I dont know who I am anymore without her. This sounds much worse out loud than in my head and I think perhaps Ive overdone it a bit. I mean, dont get me wrong, I love being a mum! Reel it back in. Dont call the Social, dont take her away! But I find myself just bowling through the routine every day and then feel a bit joyless when shes gone to bed. Like, whats it all for? I mean, I really enjoy my job, but doing it makes me feel guilty, plus, Im not sure Im very good at it any more. Is she even having a nice time? I dont have much of a social life anymore; I dont really have many friends nearby. I dont really know what to say half the time. Ive also lost my sex drive, I soundlessly mouth sex drive rather than say it out loud my body, my name even I pause the massive digital clock on the wall flickers to 10.25 and breaks my flow. Its a beautiful autumnal day and I catch a glimpse of golden leaves and rolling hills outside as the Roman blind is blown away from the window for a second. It feels good sharing like this out of my familys earshot.

So you feel its changed you, Grace? Becoming a mother?

One minute I was just me, doing my thing. I defined myself by my likes and dislikes, my desires, career and relationships. I did whatever I wanted to do. After years of body-image battles, I finally felt like the agent of my own body and Id grown to understand how it worked. No matter how far I travelled or how my life changed slightly, the constant was the familiarity of my own self. But a cursory New Years shag before the takeaway curry arrived was enough to change my life forever. In that instant, I lost control of my body and mind as they were repurposed to grow a baby. My identity started to slide off me as hormones and then love infiltrated every thought and feeling. The colleagues, friends and even strangers who played a part in shaping and supporting my sense of self slipped away, work dwindled as every hour became a moment in my childs life. I felt like I had to fight twice as hard to have a voice. My confidence was knocked by the constant feedback from everyone and their suffocating deluge of opinions and anecdotes. I tried to fit in everywhere old life, new life and didnt fit in anywhere.

It doesnt matter how you come to motherhood biologically, by adoption or surrogacy it changes everything. You are now a MUM. What I experienced when I had my daughter is an identity crisis which no social group, age, creed or race is immune to. Its something Ive heard of in different forms from every mother Ive ever met, an uncomfortable truth that belies the belief that being a mother is the most natural thing a woman could do. From the physical and emotional changes you encounter to the way your agenda and daily life is altered, your identity is constantly up for redefinition. I thought I was patient, I would think to myself,