The Weight of Parenting

Weight.

Let that word sink in.

Now, as a society we're obsessed with it. How much did you lose? How much do you weigh? How many cm is your waist line? What is your goal weight?

We are bombarded with this issue centring on weight. As a woman, you have to be living under a rock not to notice.

Two weeks after giving birth I stood in front of a full length mirror with my shirt hiked up, looking at my mid-riff and wondering when and if I would get my pre-baby body back.

But then the word weight took a very different turn in my motherhood journey. Was my newborn gaining enough weight? We breastfed (and are still breastfeeding) and my son was a month prem, so weight gain became a topical issue.

Looking back to those first crazy 6 weeks of dealing with a newborn, I tried to enjoy my little bundle of joy. I tried to settled in. I tried to find my stride. But the underlying issue was ALWAYS weight gain. We went for weigh-in's religiously. I expressed milk to make sure he was getting the right intake. I monitored nappies. I had an alarm set every three hours so I could wake him up to feed him.

No mother to a premie wants to hear the words "slow weight gain", and so I fought the battle next to my son. I watched proudly as he gained weight and grew. In many ways this served as validation for me. I wasn't failing as a mother. I wasn't short-changing my son by breastfeeding him. I wasn't allowing him to be readmitted to hospital.

Fast forward 10 months later. We made it. He is a healthy weight, crawling, laughing, giggling, standing, temper-tantruming little boy. He is (mostly) sunshine and smiles. But, a few weeks ago he had a rough run of it. He was sick (which we have now discovered is all allergy related) and didn't want to eat. The result? He lost weight. And in this moment, suddenly I was spiralled back to those first 6 weeks of his life.

Despite still being on his curve (even though he lost weight), I couldn't shake the feeling of failing him somehow. How did I not notice he lost weight? How did I not realise it was an allergy from the beginning? Should I still breastfeed? Should I switch to formula?

And then it hit me: This is the weight of parenthood. The worrying,. The stressing. The late-nighting. The early-morning-ing. The cuddling. The self-doubting.

So the weight of parenthood is real. It can be overwhelming. How do you get through it? I don't have the answer to this, but I'm not averse to giving myself a little pep-talk every now and then, telling myself that I am the best mother to my little boy.