It's been a couple of days since I reached the end of my tether, peeked over the edge of a cliff I felt I could fall off, and decided self-care was more necessary than ever. I wasn't willing to crash.

The day's descent began when my husband interrupted a baby-mama nap. I was drifting into dreamland, snuggled up to my squeaky-snoring daughter. Naps are medicine for my mama soul. Mr Dzedze was also tired but up on his feet and on a mission to get things done. Heading to Home Affairs to apply for his passport, he wanted to get a photo of our daughter to start her application too. "She's sleeping, just do it all another day" I protested, less than pleased by his insistence waking me. He stood his ground. I yielded, moody.

We woke her. Attempted to snap photos but her fussing and crying wrecked any promise of getting what we needed. "Ok, let's try again in the coming days" we agreed. Nyaniso headed out the door. She drifted back to sleep. I failed to join her.

I called my Mama and caught up on family gossip. Told her about Nyaniso's mini-meltdown the night before and went on to share how I miss a very particular kind of company - the kind I grew up with. The kind that is present but requires nothing of me. Like siblings around the house, or friends who sit in silence with me. My friends back home in the UK. My own childhood. The day took its usual turns but I felt particularly lonely. I felt my husband's absence. I longed for him near.

Nighttime came and Nyaniso returned from a long day at home affairs (the queues are notorious) and a trip to the gym. I was sat on the bed, napless and milk-soaked-stinking. One hand holding my child as she fed from me. The other holding my head.

"You've had it rough today, huh?" Nyaniso asked, empathetic. I didn't say a word, wondering what might fall out if I opened my mouth. I've learned when it's wise to tread gently with the things I say and didn't want to spew unprocessed emotion over him.

He came over, scooped up our little one and held her close. Turned to me and lovingly said, "Do you want the weekend off, I can take her?" My response was spoken by a bottled-up little girl inside, a girl missing her friends from home. "I don't want a break, I just want someone to play with." I watched the little girl inside me kicking a ball against a wall, solo, dreaming of a team to charge around the world with.

Nyaniso dished up the soup I had cooked one-handed (mother-tasking!) Each spoonful was a giant hug. It gently melted the feelings of isolation I had felt through the day, bringing memories of the home I grew up in. As I ate I re-committed to being kind to myself. I've been gathering nuggets of joy ever since.

Yesterday we had a family bed day. "You know, you just being here makes a big difference to me, your presence matters" I shared with Nyaniso. He hadn't known. We talked about our future, about business, about our dreams. We shared kisses and closeness, found our way to a fullness that has blossomed in being parents together.

I later held my daughter close to my chest on the patio and did twelve deep squats. I felt victorious. Three weeks and three days since birth, and my body was finding form again. I sang songs in the sunshine in celebration and danced with her. We snuggled up on the sofa in the evening to catch another episode of Undercover Billionaire. Ate food that was sent to us as a 'newborn parents' gift from friends.

Today we slept 'til noon. Woke up gently. I took off her nappy and let her bask naked, looking up at the bird-filled blue skies. I bathed with her, washing her little body and playing water games. Her eyes popped wide as I pattered my fingers in the water, making splash sounds by her ears. Papa then took her, wrapped her up cozy and she fell fast asleep.

Nyaniso has now headed to the movies with a friend. I wonder how it is for him, being out socially for the first time. Are they talking about fatherhood? About life with little ones? Are they talking about marriage and growing up? Or perhaps escaping from all of that and just conversing about the movie they watched.

I wonder how it will be for me when I first spend time with friends again. I wonder what we'll talk about. How much room there will be to not speak, to just be in it all, together. I wonder where conversation will weave to. I'm kind of scared and overwhelmed by the thought of it.

Baby is grunting right now. Waking up with a gurgling tummy. Time for a nappy change soon. And time for a mama nap too... Hopefully. Managing the many moments of motherhood is a balancing act. Each day I ask my husband if he thinks we're doing well and so far he's always responded, "Yeah love, I think we are." I lean into his answer as a means of self-care. I trust that his words are true.