AND just like that, my little girl, or my 'wee woman' as I call her, is three years old. The past three years have been a rollercoaster of emotions, and a steep learning curve.
Over the last week or so, I have been thinking back to this time three years ago - did I have a life BN (Before Neansaí)? Two of my best friends have had babies recently, and when I look at their baby photos, I think, was my wee woman ever that small?
She's now having full blown conversations with humans, toys and animals (anyone she thinks will listen to her, really), makes us laugh on a daily basis, and just like every three-year-old, she has energy reserves that I covet. It has happened in the blink of an eye.
That's one of the things people tell you when they hear you're expecting a baby: "Enjoy them being small, time will fly by." It has flown in ways; I can hardly carry Neansaí up the stairs to bed.
In other ways, it has dragged by and there have been certain stages I couldn't wait to be shot of. I am not sorry to say goodbye to the terrible twos. The last 12 months certainly lived up to the hype. Some of the tantrums have been truly epic, and not in a good way.
A fair proportion of the (mostly unsolicited) advice I was given when I was pregnant would go in one ear and out the other. Looking back, no amount of advice prepares you for becoming a parent. It is a skill that you have to learn and a path you must navigate for yourself, because everyone has a different take on it.
I am resigned to the fact that Mummy Guilt is here to stay. I do question myself what I feel guilty about exactly. Mostly, it's about going to work, particularly if I have to work in the evening or at the weekend which happens frequently in my profession.
But then I take a step back and consider why I'm working, and how that will benefit my daughter as she grows up. I enjoy working, my mother and grandmother worked, it's part of who I am.
American writer Glennon Doyle has written at length about the idea that mothers must be martyrs.
In her book Untamed she writes that, "We have lived as if she who disappears the most, loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by slowly ceasing to exist". In my opinion, this is precisely where the idea of Mummy Guilt comes from. That idea that in order to be a good mother, you must completely forget you, and who you are.
Glennon then goes further and states that, "This is why Jung suggested: There is no greater burden on a child than the unlived life of a parent".
One of the best pieces of advice I was given was 'happy mummy, happy baby'. It did take me a while to understand this, and I see now how it rings true. Children can feel our mood, our stress, our sadness, our happiness and they reciprocate, imitate and subconsciously feed off our energy.
I try to remember this most days, and then on the days when I don't – ironically, the Mummy Guilt kicks in. I then have to remind myself to shrug off the notion of not being good enough – and that can be tough to do.
I found out this week that a dear colleague is having a baby. When I was talking to her, I couldn't help but remember back to this time three years ago when I was in my final trimester, and thought about the things I would have done differently, the questions I wished I had asked. I definitely didn't have enough conversations with my friends about what lay ahead.
As the rollercoaster of parenthood is about to leave platform three, we prepare to experience the fourth year of our daughter's life. Presently, our world is all about having absolutely no privacy in the house, particularly in the bathroom because she wants to know about poo poo and wee wees...
It's also about knowing that a night's sleep will never be guaranteed ever again, it's about hugs, impromptu dancing and acting silly. Life at the school gates awaits, in one more blink of an eye.
