A Blog For Mums
There’s a strange moment that can happen before you go back to work after maternity leave. You look at your work bag, your shoes, your laptop, and it all feels familiar but not quite yours anymore.
Technically, you’re going back to a job you already know. You may know the people, the systems, the tea situation, and the printer that only works when it feels emotionally supported. But you are not walking back in as exactly the same person who left.
Returning after maternity leave is often talked about in practical terms: childcare, hours, packed bags, passwords, and remembering how to have a conversation without mentioning nappies. All of that matters. But the emotional side is just as big.
Because while your workplace may have carried on as normal, your whole life has been rearranged.
One of the oddest parts of going back is realising that work has continued without you.
People have had meetings, made decisions, changed processes, moved desks, invented new acronyms, and probably still not cleaned the shared microwave.
It can feel like stepping into a room where the conversation never stopped, and you’re trying to work out where to join in.
That doesn’t mean you don’t belong there anymore. It just means there may be a period of catching up emotionally as well as professionally. You might feel excited one minute and completely out of place the next. You might be pleased to see people, then suddenly miss your baby so sharply it catches you off guard.
None of this means you’re doing it wrong. It means you’re moving between two very different worlds, and both of them matter.
Even if you were brilliant at your job before maternity leave, you might still feel rusty when you return.
That can be deeply annoying, especially when part of you wants to stride back in looking capable, calm, and extremely well moisturised. Instead, you may find yourself forgetting passwords, overthinking emails, losing your train of thought, or secretly winging it.
Months away from workplace routines can make familiar things feel strangely intimidating. Add broken sleep, childcare logistics, a changed body, and the mental load of keeping a small human alive, and it’s no wonder your brain might not feel sharp on day one.
But rusty does not mean incapable.
You haven’t lost everything you knew. You’re just using muscles that have not been stretched in a while. Give yourself time.
This is one of the big emotional contradictions of going back to work.
You can miss your baby desperately and still enjoy drinking a hot cup of tea in peace.
You can feel guilty about leaving them and also feel relieved to have a part of the day where nobody is grabbing your hair, wiping yoghurt on you, or shouting because a banana broke in half.
You can want to be with your child and want to use the non-parent part of your brain again.
Motherhood has a way of making normal feelings feel suspiciously complicated. Wanting adult conversation, professional confidence, money, routine, ambition, or simply a bit of space does not make you cold. It makes you human.
And missing your baby does not mean you made the wrong decision. It means you love them.
It would be lovely if the first week back came with soft lighting, cooperative children, supportive colleagues, and a handbag containing everything you need.
In reality, someone may get ill, childcare drop-off may be harder than expected, your outfit may feel weird, your inbox may be terrifying, and you may cry in a car park, toilet cubicle, or suspiciously quiet corner of the kitchen.
Again, not failure. Just transition.
A gentle return helps if it is available to you. Some mums use trial childcare sessions before they go back. Some keep the first few evenings as empty as possible, because being “on” all day after months at home can be more tiring than expected.
It can also help to lower the bar for domestic perfection. This is not the week to batch-cook 19 freezer meals, reorganise the airing cupboard, and start a new skincare routine.
Clean pants, fed people, and everyone roughly where they need to be is a respectable achievement.
Small systems can stop the whole week from feeling like a badly packed changing bag.
Do a practice run of the morning routine before your first day, even if it goes hilariously badly. Pack bags the night before where possible, including your own. Plan clothes that feel comfortable now, not clothes that belonged to a pre-baby version of you who had more time and fewer mysterious stains.
Write down anything your tired brain might forget, from nursery details to work logins. Keep the first week boring on purpose, with fewer plans and fewer expectations. Ask questions at work without apologising for being away.
And make room for the emotional comedown. You may hold it together all day and then fall apart over a missing dummy, a spilt dinner, or your partner breathing too loudly. That doesn’t mean the day was a disaster. It means you used up a lot of your coping supply.
There can be a quiet pressure to “get back to normal” after maternity leave.
Back to your old routine. Back to your old body. Back to your old pace. Back to the version of you who could stay late, answer emails quickly, remember birthdays, make dinner, and not wonder whether the baby has napped.
But maybe the aim is not to go back at all.
Maybe the aim is to build something new.
You are returning with different responsibilities, different emotions, and a very different relationship with time. That might mean new boundaries. It might mean new ambitions. It might mean discovering that the old way of working no longer fits, or that work gives you a piece of yourself you really missed.
You do not have to be instantly confident, perfectly organised, or emotionally bulletproof. You just have to take the next step, then the one after that.
And if the first few weeks feel wobbly, remember this: you are not failing to become your old self again.
You are learning how to be this version of you.
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