mum - The Barefoot Blogger

I had my baby boy in July 2024 and never did a blog about it, because it turns out that creating then raising a little human is pretty fucking time consuming.

But as I sit here writing this, I’m preparing to return to my full-time ‘paid’ work tomorrow. If you have trouble sleeping tonight because you can hear noises outside, it’s just my gentle sobs coming from Cronulla.

Don’t get me wrong, I know on many levels, that this will be really good for me. To be back with adult friends talking about something other than Leo and his feeds / nap times / swim lessons etc, to be back in a beautiful airconditioned office in Double Bay and to be back to a full bank account will feel so good for the soul. But to walk out my front door and spend an entire day away from the little person that my body created, for the first time since he was born, will absolutely break me. And picturing him missing me, will be a dagger to the heart.

I wanted to get back to work early. I knew I was never the type of person that could handle a long maternity leave. I like structure & routine, I like to keep busy, and I like to have a purpose. But it feels so unnatural to be separated from this tiny human who relies on me to provide him everything he needs, so soon. I don’t feel ready in my heart, I don’t feel ready in my soul.

I know it’ll work out, but I’m acknowledging the chasm in my chest, and I’m sitting with it for a minute.

How can you leave the house with this little face staring at you?

As hard as that factor is, it’s probably not the worst part of it. I work hybrid and my husband and I are taking turns solo parenting Leo whilst the other is working. Two days a week I’m in the office, but three days a week I’m EVERYTHING. I’m the primary caregiver to an infant just about to start crawling, I’m doing all of the housework, I’m doing a full-time job with increased responsibilities…and throw in part-time podcast host whilst you’re at it.

I’m absolutely fucking terrified for the impending burnout. No matter how I structure all of that, I will get burnt out. It’s par for the course.

I’m starting to think that society is just not designed to nurture and support working mothers. Something that honestly never crossed my mind before having kids. How in the hell do single, working mothers do it?!!!! They deserve a God damn parade. No, they deserve full-time hired help. Sometimes relying on family or paid childcare is not feasible. Sometimes, you’re just it.

It’s a truly paradoxical time in a woman’s life.

I always knew I wanted to be a mum one day, and I figured I’d be good at it, but I delayed it as long as my body would allow because I had other interests I wanted to pursue before being tied down. I can tell you now, I had absolutely no idea how much I would absolutely love motherhood and the insane amount of love I would feel for my son. From the second they cut me open, held up this perfect little human and placed him on my chest, I had to have him on or near me at all times. It feeds my soul in a way I never imagined possible. To feel the depths of this magical love, and on the polar opposite, feel so insanely exhausted and pulled in a million different directions, is really overwhelming. All you want is to bask in the glow of motherhood, but you’re too exhausted to get off auto-pilot. Millennial mums are working and financially contributing to the household expenses just as much as the dads. And yet, we’re still doing all of the other stuff mums did in previous generations, because they didn’t work, and their husbands were at work all day. Throw in your side hustles, your gym workouts, your social life with multiple groups of friends, your dry brushing, your yoga & meditation, and your hundreds of beauty & medical appointments, and what you have is a recipe for implosion. They say the biggest mistake people make financially is spending more than we earn. Well I can tell you right now, that every woman my age is spending more energy than she’s recharging. And that’s a major fucking problem.

What’s the solution? Well free childcare is a good start. But there definitely needs to be massive physical and emotional support for mothers, from all areas of her life.

Who were my absolute saviours during pregnancy and early motherhood? Other mums my age. They’ve just been through it. They get it better than anyone.

I said to one of my mum friends the other week, that I found a version of myself in maternity leave that feels like a long-lost friend. Like 15yr old Steph who used to hang out with her friends all day, then lay on her bed listening to Tori Amos on her CD player and stare out the window and watch the stars. The girl who was so excited about life and her future, who knew how to unwind and daydream for hours.

I’ve been working non-stop (aside from the occasional trip) since 1998. I’ve been in rapid “go mode” my entire adult life. I don’t know how to relax without medical assistance. I’m rarely in my body, always ten steps ahead. And the last six months, I got to play. Really play like a child. I’d take Leo for a walk along the beach, and we’d stop halfway, sit under a tree and watch the clouds. We’d jump on the bed and kiss & cuddle. We’d play music and have a dance party in the living room. At 2pm on an idle Tuesday, we’d sit on the bed in our underwear, throw our legs in the air and rock side to side in the happy baby pose. I ask you, how can I go back to sitting behind a laptop for at least 8hrs a day when I’ve been doing the happy baby pose in my underwear?!!!

I fell l in love with this version of myself, as much as I fell in love with my son. And whilst I’ll miss Leo when I’m busy working, this version of myself is who I’ll miss the most.

That, my friends, is what you call ‘motivation’. That’s my ultimate motivation to make 2025 my biggest quantum leap year yet. I’ve played it safe the last few years. I’ve had a steady incline of success, but I’ve made small steps because it’s safe. It’s comfortable. I’m gonna get really uncomfortable this year, and carve out a life for myself that means I dictate my schedule, and I will ‘happy baby pose’, anywhere, anytime.

It’s gonna be a big year kids, mumma feels it in her waters. I thank you for sticking around and reading words that mean a lot to me. And if you haven’t already, please check out my podcast ‘Can I Get A Refill’ for even more (and far more regular) thoughts.

Wishing you a very magical 2025. I hope you get really uncomfortable.

I’m on the precipice of turning 40 and feel that my grace period of delaying childbirth may be coming to an end. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids and have always pictured having them, that was never a question. I just got here so much faster than I could have imagined. I’m gonna say the thing that so many of you have thought but haven’t wanted to say for fear of sounding selfish or insensitive…I’m scared.

I swear to God, I was 15yrs old a few weeks ago, looking out the window in my parents’ house, dreaming bigger dreams for my life than you could ever imagine. And nearly all of them centred around my creative pursuits. I dreamt of singing on the world’s biggest stages, creating beautiful music, meeting new people, travelling the world, having mind-blowing sex like all those highlighted pages in my Danielle Steel books, and kissing in the rain like Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawke in Great Expectations.

(GIF courtesy of aliasledger.tumblr.com)

I always knew I’d have kids with the love of my life one day, I just never spent time lying on my bed daydreaming about it.

For so long I was a child under the rule of my parents and teachers. Then I went into controlling relationships with older men who thought part of loving me was dictating my do’s and don’ts. The last few years have been magical, but my freedom was slightly hindered by the massive debt I was working 3 jobs to pay off. For the first time in my adult life; I’m debt free, I’m in a relationship that perfectly combines support & freedom, and I’ve rekindled lifelong friendships that set my soul ablaze. My mind is old enough to make good choices, my legs are young enough to cut some serious dance moves (anyone catch us at Marly Bar last Saturday?) and I have a voice that speaks my mind the way I always wanted her to (my greatest achievement to date). Without a doubt, I am living my absolute best life, and I just know that in years to come, my mind will revisit these days with much gratitude and nostalgia.

I’m so excited for my next chapter, but I feel something in my chest that I’ve felt before, in darker times. It’s grief.

To be able to embark on any new chapter: a new relationship, a new job, a new home, there had to have been a closing of an old chapter. It is in no way disrespectful to your new chapter to feel sadness and grief as you bid a fond farewell to something that was part of you for so long.

I’ve been Steph for nearly forty years. I wake up and think of my needs first. I meditate, I do yoga, I drink my juice, I put on a vlog and get ready, I go to the gym, I login to work, I go for an infrared sauna, I curl up on my bed and read a book. Perhaps not much of this will change when I become a Mum or perhaps most of it will. For a while, my needs will take a backseat. And as rewarding as I know in my gut motherhood will be, that concept is fucking terrifying.

For so many years, I lived a shit life. I felt really bad about myself, I had severe depression and many times contemplated ending a life that caused me so much pain. It was through sheer grit of working on myself and my needs that I clawed my way into an existence full of joy and purpose.

This is a hard thing to talk about because there are so many wonderful mums-in-waiting who have been struggling with infertility and miscarriages. I’ve had to be very careful who I’ve shared my fears with, to not be insensitive and cause them further pain. But I want you to remember that the severity of someone else’s struggles does not shrink yours. Your story is your story. Your feelings are always valid.

I know in my gut that I’ll be a great Mum. I adore my nephews and my niece like nobody’s business, but I’m really scared for the baby stuff. I never had babies around me and I have no freaking clue what I’m doing. I just wanna take a long nap after conception and wake up to a 4yr old who comes home from pre-school and tells me funny shit about their day. The stage where I can sleep through the night without toothless screams, where no one will shit on me and where I can be back in the gym every day.

I recently shared these fears with some close friends and how I’m frantically trying to fit in all the fun stuff before kids come along (singing gigs, nights out with friends, travel) and the husband of one of my besties said “Um, it’s not like you’re dying”. I literally heard my voice in my head reply “Isn’t it though?” All well and good for you Dads to say, your tits won’t be pointing to your shoes, your insides won’t be stretched open and you won’t have hormones forcing you to shed buckets of tears. When you travel for work, you won’t have keyboard warriors mum-shaming you.

I know, you parents out there think I’m being a dramatic bitch, but the truth is, Single Steph is dying, and this is her fucking eulogy OK, so sit down and pay your last respects. It’s been a hell of a ride.

Slight diversion approaching but stick with it, I have a relatable point…

I’m a HUGE tennis fan, and watching Roger, Raffa and Serena has been an absolute privilege. Do you know what really fucking irks me? When they’re winning streak starts to taper off as fresh blood comes in (after 15 years of absolute dominance) and these losers on their couch start saying; “oh just retire”, “just let go already”. You know when they’ll let go? When they’re good and ready to let go. On their terms. When I see an elite athlete having to bow out not because they want to, but because their body is forcing them to, it absolutely breaks my heart. For so many years I cared about nothing but achieving greatness in my creative field. I had horse blinkers on. I find it so incredibly sexy and inspiring when someone gives their craft their absolute all and can only imagine that having to step away from a life that is literally all you’ve ever known, must be excruciating. That, my friends, is grief.

I feel like I grew up in a time where I was told who to be and how to act. My aim is to take a different tack. I’m so excited to meet my kids to watch them flourish. I hope I make them feel loved and supported but I pray to God I never make them feel judged or suffocated. I hope I can give them good advice when they need it and shut my mouth when all they want is to feel heard. I hope we share experiences together and I pray they never feel the need to screen my calls. I hope they love themselves more than they ever love another and make good choices not because I tell them to, but because they know they’re worthy of that. And most importantly, I hope I don’t fuck them up.

To all my girls out there reading this and feeling seen. Please know, you’re not alone. I share your fears. And your feelings are always, always valid.

And to my future kids, don’t be offended by this, you don’t exist yet. I’m sure I’ll take it all back, as long as your first word isn’t Dad.

Now wish me luck as I embark on a 4 week adventure through Morocco, France and Italy. Overshare time: I’m ovulating in Paris so it’s possible I may not see as many museums as I would like…

Tag: mum

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