On motherhood

I’m feeling all sorts of things today.

I’m so tired but I can’t sleep.

I’m exhausted, but have been woken up almost every hour last night since putting my baby to sleep, and immediately rush to her side in fear of her waking the husband from his.

My back hurts, stretch marks over my belly and hips, and of course there exists the infamous mom belly flop, rolls and all. My body’s not how it used to be – I’m not one of those who’ve magically snapped back into pre-preggers shape. I tell people that I don’t mind it at all, but deep down I know that I resent it.

I took some time out for myself for a yoga session today in the hope of feeling a bit more like… well, just me. And it’s like all the aches and pains that I’ve been holding in and trying to brace are released and my body ends up hurting even more.

I now pee myself sometimes when I sneeze, cough, or laugh and have to be careful to have timely bathroom breaks to avoid any accidents. All this while chugging down loads of fluids to keep my breastmilk supply up for bubba.

During the week I cook fresh meals, clean up after her meals at least 2 times a day, bathe her, clean up poop, be the entertainment, do the laundry, clean the towels, change the sheets because there was a diaper blowout, do the dishes while I can, take out the trash, rearrange and clean up the nursery, deal with screaming tantrums and general mischief, then it’s the evening and I take her out for a walk. Sometimes we go out for some lunch and a bit of shopping.

I get shouted at by the husband for slamming on the fridge door because it made a mark on the rental apartment wall and he couldn’t see the milk when I see it right in front of me as I open the door. One of us must be blind then, I don’t know. But everything just seems So Difficult for him, having looked after her for just three hours. I do it on a daily basis for 10 hours at a go, and he’s complaining.
I look at the laundry basket that’s always full, dustiness everywhere, floors grimy and I can’t help but feel deflated and defeated.

I think about all that I went through during pregnancy and the birth to have this little miracle in my life, next to me, and I thank god everyday that she came to me. It’s one of the greatest loves you will ever feel, and during meditation today I somehow knew that she came to me, she found me. It all makes sense – she has been smiling since she was born. We were asked to imagine ourselves achieving our dreams during meditation today and I found myself singing her a birthday song.

I sometimes don’t feel like I can do this anymore, but I have to continue. With the fatigue, with the backaches, sleepless nights and shouting. I know that I don’t deserve to be shouted at, but there is very little else I can do about it. It’s so tough, and sometimes I feel like I’ve given it all, I’ve given my best and I break down in tears because it’s still not enough?

I look at other moms and they’re like – yup, got this shit altogether as they waltz up to the weekly coffee sessions/baby sensory classes/baby massage whatevers in proper clothes, hair and makeup done, baby on the hip. Some even have professional manicures and pedicures. I’m lucky if I get out of my pyjamas on some days. By the time I am ready to go out, it’s late afternoon. So I sit back down on the couch, exhausted, and this is after only just the preparation.

Can someone tell me what I’m missing?

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