New Mummy Blog: I don't know how to cope without my baby

It’s been 30 weeks since my baby was born and in that time I’d never spent more than a few hours away from her. On the rare occasion I did venture out alone I felt like there was something missing, some vital part of me still left at home, a bit like I’d gone out without putting clothes on.

In part it was borne out of necessity: I was breastfeeding a hungry baby who didn’t like to go too long without food. But that reason is wearing thin now that she’s on solids, and as this happens it becomes more and more obvious that it’s just an excuse.

The simple truth is I don’t really like leaving her. It’s nothing to do with not trusting who she’s with when I’m not there – it’s either my husband, who’s a wonderful hands-on dad, or it’s Honor’s doting grandparents who give her even more undivided attention than I do.

It’s just a mummy thing I suppose, and I’m incredibly lucky to be in a position to spend every single day with my child for so long before having to return to work.

But it does mean that my nervousness at leaving Honor for any length of time has not had to be addressed.

Plus we’ve been in that new parent vacuum, where the days and weeks slip by at triple speed. Before we knew it, we had become the very couple we always swore we would not turn into. We realised we never went out. Yes, ok, we have a calendar full of lovely Sunday lunches in kiddie-friendly pubs and afternoons with friends that involve a long car drive and a cranky baby; often a three-hour round trip to spend two hours actually there.

But we never go out just the two of us, Adam and I. I feel a stab of nostalgia at the idea of ‘date night’, being able to get a bit dressed up and spend some good old fashioned quality time with my husband.

[New Mummy Blog: Dealing With Separation Anxiety]
[Mum Diary: Of Course My Baby Isn't Good]

I’m not talking about a crazy, drunken night out – one drink too many would see us brought to our sleep-deprived knees. And there’s no way we could hack the hangover.

And I don’t mean anything fancy, just out for dinner – something we used to do once or twice a week without thinking twice but that has since become a logistical nightmare. Just something a bit different from a night in front of back-to-back Breaking Bad with one ear on the baby monitor, praying she doesn’t wake up.

And so, as my birthday approached, my lovely husband insisted that we get away for a night in a hotel – dinner, cocktails, a leisurely breakfast, the whole shebang.

Knowing my nervousness at leaving Honor, he found somewhere just 45 minutes away – close enough to give me peace of mind that we could hare back on the remote chance one of the terrible what-if scenarios in my mind actually played out.

And the grandparents leapt at the chance to have sole charge of Honor overnight without me breathing down their necks, of course.

So off we went, in a haze of guilt and glee for our official first weekend away post-baby.

And, like the cliché we’ve become, we spend the whole time talking about the baby and looking at pictures of the baby. We were in bed by 10 o’ clock, exhausted and in for a fitful night’s sleep. It turns out that after seven months of broken sleep it takes more than one night of silence to break the habit of waking up at least once an hour.

In the morning, we ate breakfast, counting the minutes until we could ring home (again) to check up on things before using the miserable weather as an excuse to hit the road and come back early.

And so we realised that things really are never going to be the same again – at least for the next 18 years. We’re not able to switch off from being parents for even one night. But actually, we don’t want to. And yes, I’m sure as time goes by we’ll be able to appreciate our quality time together with more of the glee and less of the guilt. But for now, while we’re the centre of our little baby’s world, we’re going to relish every minute of it.