Going for Lunch with the Girls

I was quite astounded really when I recently learnt that a friend of mine had been challenged during her maternity leave by a loved one, who implied that she wasn’t working and that evidently, in their eyes, being on maternity leave meant going for lunch with the girls.

But it’s a funny kind of “not working” when the alternative is that the baby is not cared for and the housework doesn’t get done, the meal on the table isn’t ready in the evening and the laundry overflows.

I am thankful that this is not a view held by everyone, but none the less still disturbed when I hear that it is thought at all. It makes me a little angry, in case you can’t tell.

I draw inspiration from the work I see women do around me, both paid and unpaid. I remember someone dear to me with her baby during her maternity leave and the routine she constructed to get through the day. The household jobs to get done and all the effort she put in. I also remember the pressure she was putting on her self to get it right. This model Mother that she was aspiring to be, what next job should be done and when. This strict timetable governing her life. I must admit that during this time, I was a little concerned for her wellbeing, she was very fixated and would become upset if for some unfathomable reason the baby didn’t want to go down for a nap quite so peacefully that particular afternoon.

A good routine of course is healthy and beneficial for all the family, but it’s not healthy and beneficial if it is having a negative impact on your mental health.

My current painting in progress is of my sister holding her son after she had finished breastfeeding and he looks so content and it means a lot to me to try to portray through this image that women are marvelous Mothers, starting from somewhere, and building from there.

I have personally witnessed the work that Mothers do and at times the anxiety that can come from that. Not only becoming upset when the routine isn’t adhered to, but I’ve seen another not want to put her baby down and just walk around holding him after a feed. Obviously the life of leisure and “not working” being the most inaccurate description of the circumstances.

On one particular visit to see my sister when she was on maternity leave, I was sat on the sofa, happily chatting away and I realised that whilst I was sat with my feet up, my sister was taking that moment where we were briefly alone to start folding up the mountain of clean clothes that were sat in the corner. The work hadn’t stopped.