I write this from the comfort of my hairdresser’s chair. I say comfort, because this should be a relaxing new mummy treat – hair being done, magazines and phone at hand, hot (yes, hot!) cup of tea in front of me – but actually my thoughts are consumed, as always, by Baby Lighty.
I can count on just half of one hand the number of times I’ve times I’ve left him up until now in the 18 weeks since his arrival. And by leaving him, I mean that he is safely ensconced with Mr Lighty, and never for more than 2 hours at a time. So why am I still gulping down my tea like he might suddenly wake up from his nap at any moment and demand a feed, and why is my helicopter brain going round and round with thoughts of him?
The all consuming love of motherhood is a factor, of course it is, but in my humble opinion, the other factor is baby brain.
Yes, that’s right, baby brain. I’ve been meaning to write a blog about this topic for a while, because I have suffered, and suffered bad, but as Mr Lighty pointed out, I’d probably forget what I wanted to write before I put pen to paper, or in more modern terms, fingers to iPhone app!
When I was pregnant I suffered. But not quite as bad. I once went out to work and got to the end of the road before I realised that very short sighted Mrs Lighty had not put her glasses on and wasn’t wearing contact lenses, and I was definitely more forgetful, but not to the extent that I’m suffering now. And I’m sure that’s due to the fact that my thoughts are so consumed by Baby Lighty. All day. Every day. Just as a mother’s thoughts should be, but I’m driving Mr Lighty up the wall.
It’s like my brain is so full of Baby Lighty, that there’s no room for anything else. The metaphorical sponge has turned to rock. Mr Lighty’ll tell me something and I’ll forget. He’ll try to explain something to me and I just won’t get it. Or he’ll talk to me and be met by a vacant expression. And don’t even ask a group of NCT friends to work out how a bill should be split at the end of a lunch together!!
But at the opposite end of the spectrum, I’ll be very aware of when Baby Lighty needs his next bottle made up, or what we need to buy with our food shop to meet his needs, and can easily rattle off how many ounces of formula he’s drunk that day!
So am I relaxing here in the hairdressers?? No I am not. I’m thinking about my darling Baby Lighty instead. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just need to write the things that Mr Lighty tells me down, before my baby brain forgets…