The “mother” files Vol. 1
I have a toddler. He is simply adorable, and it’s honestly the hardest thing I have ever done.
I have never really liked children and probably mostly still don’t. I’d never come up to someone I know and uuuuuh and aaaaah and ask to hold that baby, because really quite simply I just don’t care for it.
However, somewhere in the distant future, I saw myself having at least one child — making my old age less lonely and all (arguably selfish, but then I would say that having children is a selfish decision in itself) — so at some point, I realised that I would have to actually make that baby.
So there my husband and I went and got pregnant. I wasn’t really ready, but then I figured I never would be. All in all, it wasn’t a bad pregnancy and the birth wasn’t traumatic so one day there he was lying on my chest, birthing blood still all over him, and I was awe-struck. I simply couldn’t believe that he is the same little person who was in my stomach just a minute ago.
The first week passed by in a daze and I can really say that I barely remember any of it. It all seems one big blur somehow. I had a horrendous headache from the epidural and the whole world seemed bubble-wrapped while a tiny person was almost constantly attached to me.
After the first week, the headache receded, and somehow it hit me that I had absolutely no clue whatsoever what I was doing. I have never held a newborn before that moment, for god’s sake. I refused to bathe him and was generally terrified to stay at home alone with him. The nights weren’t any better and the sleep deprivation felt akin to torture. I started resenting this little helpless being for being there and destroying my life. I cried and mostly felt regret for having him, which was only made worse by guilt for feeling what I felt. I was also angry and everyone — friends, family, and the world — for NEVER mentioning how hard it would be. I mean there are birthing prep classes but no one prepares you for what comes after, especially if you are as clueless as I was.
I took care of this baby, and I was anxious about everything — feeding, sleeping, and development. Not only that, but I didn’t feel bonded and connected. It was just there, and it felt like he was making my life hell on purpose.
To be continues…
