"In November 2000, two weeks after giving birth to my first and only child, I found myself collapsed in bed, breastfeeding in front of Top of the Pops, hair matted, sheets dirty, surrounded by sick-soaked muslin rags. I liked it. Or at least, it felt like a perfectly reasonable thing to be doing, until Madonna who had given birth to Rocco Ritchie only three months earlier appeared on the screen in a cropped leather jacket, belly bared, sexy-dancing to Don't Tell Me."
"As the weeks wore on, I began to see how it might be possible to shower, put on actual clothes and maybe even pop to the corner shop. Occasional visits to cafes, museums and other warm, baby-friendly spaces soon followed and stopped me from feeling as if I had fallen into a well of loneliness. But I knew that, if I was to fully return to functional human-ing, I urgently needed to sift through my priorities."
In November 2000, two weeks after childbirth, a new mother collapsed into bed, breastfeeding, exhausted and surrounded by soiled muslin rags. Madonna's post-birth image on television provoked mixed feelings of inspiration, resentment and pity. Gradually, small acts — showering, dressing, short outings to cafes and museums — restored social contact and alleviated loneliness. A pressing need to reorder priorities emerged, with housework discarded and haircare identified as especially time-consuming. The mother contemplated shaving her head to eliminate washing, brushing and colouring, to save minutes each day and to disrupt idealised assumptions and attention directed at new mothers.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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