"When I was pregnant, we moved to a new town, to a wreck of a house we planned to do up. My mum, who was ill, moved in with us, and then I was the carer of a newborn and a dying parent at the two extremes of life, but sharing many of the same needs, and often at the same time."
"My daughter's first year was the last year of my mother's life and probably the loneliest of mine. One of the dark secrets of new motherhood is how lonely it can be, and I had made it worse for myself by moving to a place where I didn't know anyone. I would go to baby groups in the morning, not sure how I could make friends when I didn't even know who I was any more."
"This photo, taken in a town centre Boots photo booth in 2014, when my daughter was seven months old, was for my partner's birthday card, but more importantly was a way of killing time on one of those afternoons. I'd planned to dress us up for each of the four snaps, but wrangling a wriggling baby in a small space, with seconds between pictures, meant only the sunglasses made it."
Pregnancy coincided with a move to a new town and a dilapidated house requiring renovation. An ill mother moved in, creating simultaneous responsibilities for a newborn and a dying parent. The combination of relocation, caregiving, and postpartum change produced intense loneliness and identity loss. Attempts to meet other parents at baby groups felt difficult, and long afternoons prompted aimless walks and resentment toward others with familial support. A photo session in a Boots booth became a pastime and a memory capturing a cheerful baby and a fatigued, disoriented mother. Mixed feelings of guilt, pride, love, and difficult memories marked that first year.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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