So, I had a dream that I put my newborn baby in a tumble dryer. Yes, a tumble dryer. This isn’t the first dream that I’ve had that makes me want to call social services on myself, but according to the seven different pregnancy apps I’ve downloaded, this is normal for expecting parents. No need to fear, the culprit is not some deep-seated leaning towards callous infanticide, it’s just anxiety – my new best friend!
Welcome to the world of never-ending angst that seems to be motherhood. I’d heard of the term “mother’s guilt” before, but I never realised that I’d be bestowed with this weighty gift from the moment I found out that I was pregnant. Every bite of sushi, sip of herbal tea and night spent sleeping on my back has been laced with the sting of guilt that maybe I am harming – no, killing, even! – my unborn baby.
The day I carried 130kg of picture frames up the stairs in our apartment block, I sat down on the sofa clutching my stomach nearly in tears, as I fearfully remembered the story of a woman who lost her baby after carrying something heavy. Before I eat smoked salmon, prosciutto or a lobster roll, I google furiously, but sometimes when my 4G is being slow I give up and just eat whatever I want anyway. I’m clearly a monster.