I am writing this post from a coffee shop.
Which, in itself isn’t particularly groundbreaking, but GUYS, I am typing with one hand because the other arm is holding an actual real-life human baby.
And not just that, but I’m holding a human baby who is currently having a lil afternoon snack from my boob.
It’s my first solo trip out the house since having Atticus and the little rascal decided to start whaling for my nipple a mere 72 seconds after my coffee arrived. And lemme tell you, I wasn’t about to abandon said delicious frothy cup of goodness just to feed him in private, so here we are now – breastfeeding in public.
Bit terrified of strangers seeing my nipple, bit mildly panicked that someone is going to come over and tell me to put my ginormous veiny breast away, but y’know, got a human to keep alive so whatevs.
So yeah, better take this opportunity to do a lil wave and say OH HI.
HI HEY HELLO BONJOUR HOLA IT ME.
It’s been a while hasn’t it?
I took some time away from this blog because by the time I got to eight months pregnant I was basically ready to fall into a 17-hour nap if I so much as got off the sofa, and then well, y’know, I had the baby.
And then I took a month-long internet hiatus (deleted Instagram and Twitter off my phone and everything) as part of a kinda maternity leave so that I could concentrate on getting to know the little bundle of joy who’d been growing in my womb for nine-months before he was carefully sliced out by the v wonderful surgical team at Ipswich Hospital.
(Spoiler: Full birth story blog post coming next week. And, just a word of warning, it’s not only 2,500 words long, but also includes the phrase ‘ferocious fingering’. So you’ve that yumminess to look forward to, you lucky badgers.)
Anyway, one thing I didn’t expect in the immediate aftermath of having a baby was just how much I’d miss work.
Sleep? Sure. Being able to live my life selfishly? Obvs. But work? Oh heck no.
And, whilst I’ve been v much enjoying exploring this new chapter in my life (and the amount of 3am Say Yes To The Dress sessions and snack bags of popcorn that have ensued), I’ve also felt this real fire in my belly to cling onto the person I was before.
Not because I’m freaked out by the new version of myself because being a mum is just top level fucking awesome, but because having distance from the person I was before has made me appreciate her just that little bit more.
I struggled a lot with work motivation whilst I was pregnant – writing every post and trying to find clothes I felt confident in became something I dreaded in a way which I hadn’t quite prepared for.
The days or even hours where I felt like I was truly nailing it (complete with takeout coffee, bright lipstick and a blazer) were rare, and instead I became lost to a haze of never-ending sofa naps and guilt for said haze of never-ending sofa naps.
It felt like I’d gone from being at my career peak (my twelve week scan was on the same day that I won Blogosphere Magazine’s Blogger Of The Year award) to feeling the most unmotivated I’ve felt since I launched this blog.
I put a lot of pressure on myself, spurred on by the fear that if I didn’t my job prospects would slide away and then I’d come back from having a baby and everyone would be like LOL WHO IS HANNAH GALE I DON’T REMEMBER HER and I wouldn’t be able to make any money or pay my bills.
Turns out FOMO is one heck of a dramatic bitch.
Because actually work has been a-OK and I haven’t even had to rely on my overdraft to bulk buy Pampers and nipple pads after all. Lolz.
So yeah, I am back and I am raring to go.
Even if raring to go means less jazzy jaunts to Paris with brands and more attempting to type and breastfeed at the same time. Hashtag glam.
I’m excited to see where this new life adventure takes me and to start trying to navigate the murky waters of balancing parenting with self-employment. I’ve currently got no work or childcare game plan in place and am just kinda taking every day as it comes – so I can’t make any big sassy promises about how often I’ll be posting just yet.
Here’s to making 2018 pretty bloody spectacular.
Photos by Chloe Plumstead.