It’s 2016 yet we still live in an age where maternity leave is treated like a holiday; like a luxury. Fortunately, in the UK, new mothers are entitled to up to a year ‘off work’ to raise their children and the opportunity to return to work part-time to accommodate the new addition to their lives. I’m incredibly fortunate that I was able to be a stay-at-home mum for the first nine months of Jenson’s life, at pretty much full pay for the first six months, and return to my previously full-time job on three shorter days a week. And the best bit? My holiday allowance continued to accumulate when I was away, meaning upon my return to work I could book off one week a month until the end of August. Because maternity leave is not holiday! Let me tell you non-believers why:
1. I finished work four weeks before my due date, taking two weeks’ annual leave and starting my actual maternity leave at 38 weeks. In the days before Jenson was born, all I could really do was sit on my ass and watch TV. I was incredibly uncomfortable, it was difficult to walk any great distance at any great speed (I perfected my waddle very early on) and, you might remember, that I was suffering with pelvic dysfunction, swollen ankles and issues with my feet. I forget what the term was now but it was almost like having stress fractures. I still struggle with my feet now. Not a holiday
2. Labour. Obviously nothing like a day at Thorpe Park or however else you like to spend an extra day off. In fact, as much as I love Jenson, I can honestly say it was the worst day of my life. The long hours, the pain, the not knowing what the hell was gonna happen (aside from, ya know, a baby coming out at the end). And then four completely unexpected nights in hospital without Luke, three of which were spent in a room on my own. That was probably the worst part
3. Weeks of recovery from an emergency c-section. Cesareans weren’t covered in our antenatal classes and I didn’t have a clue what to expect. As soon as the midwife told me he was back-to-back I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy delivery and would likely end up with a c-section but I had know idea what would happen next. Laid up with the effects of an epidural and a catheter, I wasn’t able to change or dress my own baby that first night. I had to buzz for a nurse every time he cried because I couldn’t get to him to pick him up and it was only when someone walked in around midnight that he was dressed for the first time – by someone other than his parents. The day I left the hospital was hard too – I nearly cried trying to get into the car. Luckily I had loads of support when we got home but I needed help getting on and off the sofa, I had to sleep alone in a recliner downstairs for the first few nights and we had to get a ‘special’ toilet seat that I could reach easier. Plus my mum had to help me in and out of the shower as ours is over the bath and I couldn’t reach the moses basket (and therefore the baby) properly… There were so many little issues which I didn’t think about before. Of course, the worst of it was over after a week or two but it still took a couple of months before I felt anywhere close to normal. Again – not a holiday. Not by a long shot!
4. When you’re on holiday you generally have a few lie-ins and lazy days, right? I’ve forgotten what those are!
5. I’m guessing most girls don’t have their boobs hurt like fuck for ten weeks when they go on holiday as they dry out?
6. A holiday generally means doing what you want, coming and going as you please, being able to get up for a wee whenever you want or being able to drink a whole cup of tea before it goes cold. Maybe going out for dinner and being able to eat with both hands. Perhaps flicking through a magazine every now and then… Babies don’t let you do that
7. Maybe you stay out late and have a couple of bevvies. You might even get pissed and stay out all night. Try being up all hours with a screaming, colicky or teething baby and being so tired that you feel drunk and almost fall down the stairs
8. You can’t actually go anywhere (unless you’re this woman!). Mainly because it takes an age to pack everything up to leave the house for five minutes. Partly because you’re recovering from surgery. Partly because you’re just too bloody knackered
9. You can’t get anything done. I planned on completely overhauling this blog while on maternity leave – after all, I had nine months, right? Wrong! All of those little things you think you can get done just keep piling up. Know anyone who wrote a bestseller while on maternity leave? J.K. who?
10. You’re broke. Like, almost penniless. If you’re fortunate to have been able to squirrel away a few quid pre-baby to fund the end of your maternity leave, good on ya. We, unfortunately, had to move house when I was seven months pregnant and fork out a lot of our own money on doing the place up. And the last three months of maternity leave, where you’re on less than £150 a week, fell over Christmas and five family birthdays, as well as my own. Timing!
Don’t get me wrong, spending all that time with Jenson was amazing – better than any five-star resort, relaxing beach holiday or epic adventure. Hell, it was an adventure in itself. But please, if you’re childless and you know someone on maternity leave, don’t assume she’s off having the time of her life. Hell, she might even be battling post-natal depression – definitely not a holiday. And don’t go suggesting that the government should bring in ‘independent women leave’ so that women who choose not to have children can have ‘time off to nurture their life baby’. Yeah, that’s a direct quote from a real conversation I did my best to not be part of one day.