Welcome back, Jacinda. Just don’t forget to take a nap

been three years; it’s possible I’ll still be saying this in 20) I just really, really feel for her.

At six weeks I could hardly leave the couch, let alone run the country. I regularly cried in the shower, overwhelmed with the thought I’d be stuck in this twisted roulette of night-wakings and poo-splosions forever.

My baby sucked like a knife, so breastfeeding became a tortuous whirlwind of nipple shields, breast pumps, lactation consultants and an overriding sense this was something I was meant to be good at and was not.

Existential questions swirled. Would the exhaustion ever end? Was cereal three square meals? Can a baby choke on its own snot? What even is a mother?!

(When Mau asked about breastfeeding, Ardern gave a simple four-word answer. ‘‘I am breastfeeding,’’ she said. ‘‘Ouch.’’)

Of course Ardern has to go back to work; running the country is her job. Politically, it’s the right thing to do.

There’s a high chance she’s looking forward to reinstating herself, and giving us all more to grapple with than the occasional nugget from Si and Winnie.

But the choice to leave your baby at six weeks is a difficult one, and I think the reality of this should not be understated. Aside from missing their adorable tiny faces, the omnipresent guilt, the worry, the logistics of breastfeeding, and the practicalities of sleep, there is the constant state of distractedness that renders it impossible to ever drink a coffee while it’s still hot.

And cold coffee is pretty yuck.

Being a new mum is tough, stay-at-home or not. To everyone who has done it or is going through this right now, I raise a lukewarm cup. Now, get off your phone and go take a nap.