'Someone told me I was a "superwoman." I was immediately overcome with grief.'

I've just returned home after attending a conference centred around women in business. It was a jam-packed event where I was invited to talk on a panel about guerilla marketing and the strategies we employ at my company, Nala.

Between talks, my partner, Phil, delivered our baby, Louie, to me so I could chuck him on the boob and get back to the conference. I sniffed his tiny head and my heart broke a little that I couldn't spend the day with him, but work was calling.

Other women saw me at different moments, dress hiked up, tit out, milk squirting, dodging vomits, and were overtly impressed. 

"Wow, you're superwoman, doing it all!"

"OMG I had no idea you had a baby!"

"How do you do it all!?"

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And while most women may tap themselves on the back for mastering the work/life/baby juggle for a brief moment, these comments gave me a sinking feeling in my gut. You see, if I'm being completely honest, I don't want to be that woman.

What I want? It's to not return to work, to not master the juggle, to just… mum. 

My road to becoming a mum wasn't easy, but my desire to do it was. It's always been an innate feeling that I've looked forward to my whole life. My desire to be a business owner, or 'entrepreneur' as some say, was not innate, and still isn't. I was never a particularly ambitious person. If you'd asked me 10 years ago where I wanted to be now, it would be doing exactly what I was doing at that moment — a 9-to-5 job (well, more like 7-to-3) as a physio and Pilates instructor at a local clinic.

Now I'm not saying that physios aren't ambitious, but I personally wasn't. This job made me happy, I was content, and I hoped one day it would be the role that allowed me my one year of maternity leave. I had it planned out.

Image: Supplied.

Then, Covid-19 happened and I started Go Chlo Pilates. It was an instant success and sparked an entrepreneurial light inside of me. Having a business and making my own money and having independence was exhilarating. So, I did it again, this time with Phil by my side steering the ship. Once again, it was fun. Building a business is an incredible experience — you have the ability to craft a personality of the brand and make it its own person. Nala and Go Chlo Pilates were my only babies, until they weren't.

The thing about having your own business is that nobody cares about it like you do. Add in the fact that its success or failure will directly impact your current and future financial position, and you're left with a whole lot of pressure to make it work.

Another bump in the road was a long fertility journey. Eighteen months of trying, filled with tears and needles and sinking feelings, disappointments and regret for not starting earlier. Eighteen months where time moved in slow motion and there was no end in sight. And when the magical end did come, and I fell pregnant and birthed my perfect baby, I wanted time with him. Heck, I waited long enough for this! Don't I deserve time off to devote my time solely to this little miracle!?

Image: Supplied.

Well, here I am. Four months postpartum, returned to work, and I'm grieving. Dramatic yes, seeing as it'll be a three-days-a-week-ish kinda thing, or whatever it looks like when you have your own businesses. But also accurate. The past couple of months, I've avoided questions about my plan to return to work like the plague. Any time I'm met with the question, I hold back the tears and try to deflect. "Yeah it's hard, how about you, what's your plan?" Deflect, don't cry.

The truth is, the entrepreneurial spirit inside of me has been temporarily (I hope) extinguished. I love my work, yes. But I don't feel ready to go back. Can I kick and scream and make a fuss about it? Maybe. But I won't. Instead, I'm writing about this sinking, gut-wrenching feeling with the hope that it's healing for me.

I know Louie will be fine. I'm very lucky to have an incredible support network that is armed and ready to help with him. I also know that I'm incredibly fortunate to have all these things — two successful businesses and a wonderful family, including my little IVF miracle. But I just need a moment to process, to feel sad, to cry it out.

And once it's all out, I'll put on my big girl panties (Nala, always) and get to work.

Feature image: Supplied.