I have never spent so much time with my children in an enclosed space. Yes, there was the baby stage, where our proximity was so close atoms couldn’t pass between us, but inherently we have always had the sort of the relationship that needed some physical space between us. Or more importantly- I needed that space between us.

I never really was a nurturing and maternal person. In fact, I didn’t think children would ever be on my radar as I was not intrinsically bought by the 2.4 marriage and children as a lifelong dream. My scales were tipped very much in the other direction, dipping far more towards a career and personal goals and then one magical day (Halloween to be precise) on Level 33 of a Canary Wharf building I found out that I was pregnant. Three months into a new relationship. Still owning a house with my ex. I should also mention I was also only the same period into a new role in my dream location.

It should be abundantly clear that after seeing those two lines on the plastic pee stick I was not confirmed on my decision whether I would go ahead with this pregnancy. I know this isn’t always the right thing to say, as many people have very fixed view points on abortion and the mere discussion of it can be jarring. I understand that I was in a privileged position to be in a place where I could make such a decision, but it was mine to make. It goes without saying that at this time I was firmly entrenched in my party lifestyle. I was also smoking 20 a day. The first thought I actually had when I looked at the test was that I absolutely needed a cigarette.

I did go through with the pregnancy. I did not find it easy. I absolutely felt what I was giving up much more than what I would be gaining. I struggled with my new sense of identity, as a pregnant woman, and a figure that was increasing and burgeoning by the day. Every worry I had of whether I could be a Mother was exacerbated as each month passed. I certainly felt a level of detachment and reticence to my situation and upcoming change.

Having my child was traumatic. A traumatic birth followed by health issues with my family didn’t give me the greatest start in motherhood. But I came to enjoy my role, enjoy my child and also came to embrace not being my own priority any more. My needs and wants were second to a 7lb baby that didn’t like sleep or being out of my arms. One child became two, as we didn’t want her to be alone, and the second time was indeed significantly easier, this time I knew far more what was to gain.

Nonetheless the role of motherhood is still something I struggle with. I did feel a sense of completeness before having children, and I have learnt that they should add to your life, not make up for something you feel is missing. The pressure that presents for a child would be unfathomable. You need to know who you are before you invite a significant invader into your life.

So, back to the lockdown, I miss my space, my time away from my children. I miss socialising with adults who didn’t have to home-school and where conversations didn’t evolve around our inability to teach and our lack of understanding of grammar and fractions. I think it’s time we are open and honest about our lack of enjoyment of spending so much time with our children. We should be free to admit that we enjoy being ourselves, being with our partners without the burden of parenting 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for weeks on end. If we are free to admit this to ourselves and our friends, we can allow ourselves permission to feel like we aren’t flailing or failing. In fact, we are our authentic and honest selves.