I caught myself telling a recently married friend that if I could go back in time, I wouldn't have children. I said it without thinking, without explaining what I really meant. I reflected on my statement and it bothered me that those words came out of my mouth because they are not entirely true.
I love my son with every cell in my body and I can't imagine my life without him. He has brought me more joy than I ever thought I could feel but this road into motherhood has not been an easy one for me.
Sebastian's birth scared me and while the recovery was easier than I expected, I was riddled with anxiety as soon as we brought him home. Was he getting enough breastmilk? Did he still look yellow? Was he breathing? What if I fell asleep while holding him? Did we swaddle him too tight? Was I supporting his neck and head the right way? Did he bond with me? Will he develop the right way? Will he be bullied in school? Would he have acne as a teen? What if I just gave birth to a sociopath? I found myself too scared to go down the stairs while holding him because I had visions of dropping him. I was not comfortable leaving the house. Breastfeeding was kicking my ass. I was pretty much a fucking mess.
After about 6 weeks, we started to get into a groove and he started to sleep for longer stretches. I wasn't as sleep deprived and the anxiety settled into a rage. Most of it geared towards Sergio, some of it towards my mother. Anything Serg did could set me off - a shower that went too long, the fact that he buttered his roll while Sebastian cried, mowing the lawn with his head phones on, his business trip to Chicago. Things that made no sense to a logical human being made me stew and daydream of smothering him with a pillow while he snored away in our bed as our baby screamed in the next room.
I don't know when but the irrational anger towards my kind, supportive, patient husband who is an amazing father subsided. And turned into sadness. I mourned the first 6 weeks of Sebastian's life that I couldn't enjoy like I thought I should. I mourned the easy breezy, fun relationship I once had with my husband. I mourned my independence, my efficiency, my success at work, my organized home - the control I thought I once had over my life. I felt like no one would understand me. I felt like I had no time to be so sad and no time to think of ways to fix it. I felt like I had no reason to feel sad to begin with. I felt embarrassed to bring it up to my doctor and always answered her "How are you feeling?" with "Great!". I felt pretty lost and I mostly did it in silence.
That sadness has subsided but hasn't gone away. There are days I don't feel it at all. There are days it comes in full force. This mother thing is hard. No one prepares you for it and I sure as hell wasn't ready. But my kid isn't going to wait for me to feel ready. I just hope he's ok with me figuring it out along the way and fucking up sometimes.
So Shannon - I take it back. If I could go back in time, I would do this 100 times over. Because despite how hard this has been so far (and I'm sure it'll get harder, then easier, then harder again) Serg & I made a perfectly awesome little human being that we get to watch grow and learn every day. I'd do it 100 times over because otherwise I wouldn't get to see how excited he is first thing in the morning, or watch him figure out how to move his body to get places, or hear him crack up at Fifi, or go into his room after he's been asleep for hours just to stroke his hair one last time. I'd do it 100 times over because it's the only way I'd know I can handle much more than I ever thought I could.
XOXO,
Labels: baby
