Every mother knows parenting is fraught with dilemmas.
Breastfeed or bottle feed, co-sleep or put them in a cot, stay at home or send them to nursery.
Whichever path you take risks judgment.
But three years ago, I made the most controversial decision of all. During the break-up of my marriage, I agreed for my now ex-husband to take primary custody of our then two-year-old son Asher - so that I would only see him eight days a month.
As shocking as it sounds, I then reduced that time to six days a month. He's now five, and this arrangement remains in place.
Before you criticise me for 'abandoning' my son, please consider the fact no one bats an eyelid at a divorced man only spending weekends with his young child. Why, then, are mothers who do the same branded negligent, selfish and unnatural?
After all, I know beyond doubt I made the right decision - for me and my son. It has made me a happier woman, and therefore a better mum.
Of course, I can only do this because Asher's dad is a caring and considerate man who is fully supportive of this. He understands that parents have equal responsibility to love and protect their child - and that mothers deserve the same flexibility as fathers.
That said, the 'old me' would have sided with my dissenters. Growing up, I was surrounded by people who viewed being a mother as a woman's greatest achievement.
And so, two years into my relationship with James, we planned to have a baby together. I was only 23 but we had already moved from the city to a small, rural town - the perfect place to fulfil my dream of being a homeschooling mum who created organic meals from scratch.
I was delighted when we conceived, but reality hit following Asher's birth in September 2020, after a labour which lasted several days. Holding him for the first time, there was no overwhelming rush of joy and love. I was so exhausted I simply felt blank.
The early days were better because James was on paternity leave, but when he returned to work, I started to feel low.
It wasn't that I hadn't bonded with Asher but I started to crave my old life. Although I'd booked three months of maternity leave, I put Asher in nursery two weeks early. I'd watch the other mums in tears dropping their children off and feel like I was on another planet. Was I the only one feeling pangs of regret at becoming a mother?
Despite being a community mental health therapist, I didn't recognise the signs of postnatal depression. I simply trudged through the days on autopilot.
When Asher was one, I retrained to become a perinatal mental health therapist, and that's when the penny dropped. But even an official diagnosis didn't help much. James was patient and understanding but I was deeply unhappy.
Then, just after turning 26, I went to an event organised by a women's empowerment group, and everything changed.
In that quiet, supportive space I was able to connect with what I wanted from life. After years wondering if I might be bisexual, I heard myself say, 'I think I'm gay.'
I couldn't explore my sexuality and stay with James, so our marriage had to end. James was understandably upset and hurt.
We had many discussions, and even considered opening up our relationship as, despite my confusion about my sexuality, I still had feelings for him. But I realised I had to do this alone and that's when James made an incredible suggestion.
'If you need me to take full custody of Asher while you go and do your thing for a while, I'm fine with that,' he said.
Relief flooded through me. Asher had an incredible support network - a dad who loves him, a fabulous nanny, his nursery, friends and family. Here was my chance to take the space I needed to figure myself out.
We agreed that James would have primary custody, with me taking Asher eight days a month over the weekends.
I phoned a friend who, without judgment, offered me a bed at her house, which was 90 minutes from our family home.
The next day, I packed up my car. There were no tears or big emotional goodbyes. But later, in my friend's house, surrounded by her three young sons, the guilt and shame hit me and I broke down.
Yet as grief-stricken as I felt for leaving Asher, I was convinced I'd made the right decision.
Friends reassured me: 'It will be great; you'll get the week to yourself, and then you can give Asher 100 per cent when you're with him.'
But it didn't work out like that at first. I moved into my own flat, but after a gruelling week at work I was exhausted and numb by the time James drove Asher to see me on Saturday. To my shame, I couldn't enjoy our time together and ended up wishing the weekend was over.
Meanwhile, during the week, Asher would have tantrums and call out for me. We tried speaking via FaceTime but it was too confusing for a toddler.
Exhausted and guilt-ridden, I'd get flashes of regret; how could I do this to my child?
I existed in a strange limbo. I wasn't a divorced mum with primary custody, or a single mum doing it all alone. I didn't fit anywhere. It was painful to ask myself, did I even deserve to be recognised as a mother any more?
While most of my friends were incredible, I did lose one, a single mum who was struggling herself, and who thought I had a freedom that she didn't. She couldn't understand that while, yes, I'd made this choice, there was a lot of pain, guilt and shame around it.
After a year of seeing Asher every weekend, I finally admitted the truth. I needed a few days a week each month when I wasn't working or looking after my son. Time to care for myself, so that when we were together, I could be truly present.
As always, James was supportive. So I reduced mine and Asher’s days together from eight to six. Those two extra days a month gave me the breathing space I desperately needed, to rest, see friends or simply sit and cry.
But I felt enormous guilt doing it. Even knowing it improved my time with Asher, it took another two years for me to find true acceptance about what I'd done.
People might say, doesn't every time-poor mother feel like this from time to time? And don't they just put their child's needs first and get on with it? But I think it's too simplistic to say you should prioritise either the mother or the child.
Since then, I've become a calmer, happier and more loving mother. It has benefited us both.
This time by myself has helped me realise who I really am. Interestingly, when I tentatively started dating again, though I did so initially with women, I realised I only want to date men.
With more space
, time and energy I also changed my career, giving up my therapy license and becoming a self-expression mentor, helping other women be unapologetic and uninhibited.I also became braver. In December I posted about my journey on Instagram. It got a huge response and I was called a deadbeat mum who'd abandoned my child. While it stung, I came to feel grateful for the backlash because it led to conversations with women who did understand. Mothers who felt that finally someone was admitting to not always enjoying motherhood.
The world dictates that once you become a mother you're no longer the priority. You must keep going no matter what.
But 'showing up' as my most monstrous self isn't what my son needs. Surely it's better he's surrounded by a wonderful community at his dad's and can receive me at my best?
Now five, Asher is growing up fast. We love cuddling up together to read books or chatting about his favourite Transformers. I know it’s James who gets his hugs and hears about his day, and I accept that. While people warn me I’m missing out on this precious time, I just focus on what is working for us now.
It’s hard when he says he misses me and asks to stay two nights instead of one. People ask if I’m worried about Asher knowing my true feelings one day, but there is nothing wrong with children knowing their parents went through difficult times.
Will James and I keep up this arrangement for the rest of Asher’s childhood? Right now, we’re taking it one step at a time.
It may not be the picture of perfect motherhood that other people want. But Asher is safe and loved, with a mother who's found purpose and peace. That’s something we both deserve.