Diary of the return from maternity leave

Molly Whitehead-Jones - 29 Jul 16

Whether you’re dreading it or counting down the days, the great unknown of returning to work post-baby comes with its own unique set of challenges, stresses and complex emotions (if only sweet freedom didn’t mean actually having to be away from your sweet babe, right?).

Personally, I fell straight down the middle: I was looking forward to having that professional part of my life back, but unsure how I was going to cope with switching over from 24/7 mum mode.

Here’s how my first week back in the working world went. (Spoiler: there’s lots of heartache and a smattering of guilt, but ultimately we survived).

Tuesday, day 1: Back to the office

I am as prepared as I can be: I have planned my outfits for the next three days, the bottles are all washed and sterilised, and Elliot’s dad is dropping him at nursery so I don’t have to rush/risk turning up at work with mascara running down my face. Still, despite my best efforts, there are tears (mine, not Elliot’s) before 8am; as I wave them on their way, my heart drops right to my knees. Suddenly, it all feels much too soon.

But there’s not a lot of time to digest it as I have to get to the office. On the tram, I look at the faces around me and wonder how many of them are parents who once had to cope with the first day at nursery too – and what other far worse things they could be going through right now. The world is full of people dealing with stuff much more tortuous than leaving their child in the care of fully qualified nursery staff, surrounded by fun and toys and stimulation, and they’re all just getting on with it. I can TOTALLY do this.

My morning is a chorus of “You’re back!”, “Welcome back” and “So good to have you back” – I feel popular and valued, which is lovely (you don’t get that kind of feedback from an 11-month-old). As I spend the first part of the day catching up with colleagues and trying to remember how exactly to use Excel, I take pleasure in sauntering to use the toilet at my own pace, making a hot beverage whenever I’d like, and then getting the chance to finish the WHOLE CUP. It’s as sweet as everyone said it would be.

I text my husband to ask if the drop off went OK (he already has strict instructions not to mention any crying incidents). His reply is unnervingly vague, leading me to believe that it must have been horrible. I wonder what Elliot’s doing right now, but find it hard to imagine him doing anything independent of me.

And just like that, it’s my lunch hour. There are no toys to tidy up and no washing up to be done. I head to the local pizza place and then for coffee with a few workmates and make chit chat. I am a functioning grown up again!

When we return to the office, I get so busy sifting through the 3,169 emails in my inbox that I forget to properly think about Elliot again until 4.30pm hits (MUM GUILT ALERT) then the ache to see him becomes palpable.

As soon as it hits 5pm, I’m out the door, on the tram, and then literally run home from the stop. I fling open the door, panting, to be greeted by the sight of Elliot sitting in his high chair, grinning widely. He is a bit tired (all the excitement) but totally fine. Husband gives me a full debrief on everything the nursery staff told him at the pickup: lots of eating, some crying, two wet nappies, one dirty, endless showing off.

As soon as he’s finished his dinner, I gather my baby up and hold him tight. Having spent the day in a non-home environment, he smells different, which I hate. His bedtime comes way too soon.

Wednesday, day 2: Reality hits

I’m taking full advantage of my work’s flexi-time policy by arriving earlier than most.  This morning, I notice that the office feels strangely quiet despite there being a handful of people in already, and I realise that this is because there’s no whirling washing machine, various electronic toys and/or a constantly babbling baby in the background.

Having got the niceties of yesterday over with, people are now asking the obvious questions, like “Do you miss him?” and “Is it weird being back?”. Although they’re only trying to take an interest, each of these well-meaning queries reminds me that yes, I REALLY miss him, and yes, all this is SO weird, and that feels like a tiny, but very real, punch to my already fragile sense of self.

I go out alone at lunchtime (pram-less, bizarre feeling) and find myself thinking that today’s perfect wash day weather and that it’s a shame I can’t take advantage of it and then that I CAN’T BELIEVE I AM THE KIND OF PERSON WHO CARES ABOUT THOSE KINDS OF THINGS NOW.

I see a baby in the same t-shirt Elliot’s wearing today. I see a woman feeding her newborn. I see a lost dummy and hope there isn’t a child crying for it somewhere. This is all a bit much. The novelty of my first day back has worn off and the reality of being away from my baby three days a week for the foreseeable future is sinking in.

When the work day ends, I rush home again. He is fine again.

But I’m not. Do I really have to do this all again tomorrow!?

Thursday, day 3: The home stretch

Thursday. Yes!

Elliot is being looked after by his grandma at our house today, so I feel much more confident that he’ll be content. Unfortunately, though, it did mean that it was my turn to cope with his goodbye tears. As I close the door to the sound of his wailing, all my instincts tell me I should stay. This is hard.

Having spent the first two days getting up to speed/re-engaging my brain with the concept of concentrating on one thing at a time, I am now working on actual client stuff. It takes me a bit longer than usual to hit my stride – and I’m hammering Word’s Thesaurus – but it’s thrilling to see that my brain still actually functions. I begin to remember how much I enjoy my work, and that I really love my office and the people in it, and that that makes me very lucky. How difficult must it be to drag yourself away from the little love of your life to go to a job you hate?

As I wave goodbye with a cheery “See you next week”, I feel a little smug. This three-day working week lark is alright… And now I get to go home to my baby and spend a whole four days with him. (Let’s not think about next Tuesday now, eh?)

Molly Whitehead-Jones

Molly Whitehead-Jones is a first-time mum living in Manchester and founder of Mamas Collective, a mums group that offers meetups, workshops & events for savvy, super-cool mamas who love their kids but won’t let motherhood hold them back.

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