I am amazed at how my body seems to be reacting to our impending move. My whole right side is aching with tension as we speak – I can feel it underneath the paracetamol. I am waking before dawn every morning, my skin hot, my mind racing. I am panicking.
I can’t remember what it feels like to be a mum alone all day. I mean, living here I have been a mum but there’s also been my mum and we share the housework, the emotional work, the tired moments before toddler bedtime. There is always my dad sitting in his back room pottering on his computer ready to take a walk and have a chat about nothing much and make the jokes that we like to make. I love the adult company – a kind of company that is easy and there if I want it. There is space and magic in this house. While I will moan about how hard it has been for all of us, these last two years, living under the one roof, in truth they have been the most creative two years of my life. Amelia has had a backyard to explore and a loving group of people to bounce around. If she finds me in a bad mood she has someone else to chat to. I am terrified of just the two of us all day, before Big-P gets home in an explosion of relaxed warmth and humour. I am terrified of not keeping my patience and of feeling helpless and heavy, of not being able to respond to Amelia’s incessant energy, her demands, her non-stop conversation. I know there are things I can do, jump in the car and take us somewhere out and about, visit the park, all that. I feel as though I have already struggled with all of this and finally found some balance and now it’s about to be tipped on its head again. This morning Amelia found me with tears on my cheeks and found a tissue and wiped them away. How the heart does melt! I want to be so much better for her.
I don’t know if anyone else feels this way. Perhaps I am just scared of the unknown, as usual. But I am scared. I am not really very good at this motherhood thing.