Nov
Then and Now
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I don’t think I can just sit here and write an overview of what those first several months were like.
Because I don’t think there are words that can accurately articulate the day to day torment. And while I know other people have been there, I still wonder if it is possible for another to have felt such an intensity of emotions for such an extended period of time.
Plain and simple: I hated everything about being a mother.
I vividly remember standing in my sister’s kitchen on my first Mother’s Day as my sister handed me a card. Greta was six months old. The “magic” six month mark. And no relief was in sight.
I desperately scanned the horizon for the easy, laid back, lovable baby that I needed. I fixated on my breast milk–certain that there was something that caused her to be “this way.”
Something HAD to cause this fussiness. Because if something caused it, I could fix it. I clung on to this belief for months. And months. This belief allowed me to survive the never ending days with a cranky, fussy, irritable, difficult baby.
I opened the card from my sister, a mother of two. “Isn’t it incredible how your kid can drive you so crazy, but you still love them so much?.” I just stared at the card. Because I didn’t know if it was incredible. Because I didn’t feel that way. I knew that I was “supposed” to understand what my sister was saying. And I knew that I didn’t.
And while perhaps it had become marginally easier, it was by no means enjoyable. I was trapped. Completely trapped.
While my visions of digging a hole and hiding myself away from the world had faded. And I was no longer contemplating leaving my husband and daughter–believing their world would be better without me. It (and by “it” I mean motherhood) was still nothing close to enjoyable. At all.
And apparently I was the only one in the world who felt that way. It was a dark secret that I carried with me. A secret that drove me to feeling isolated.
And alone.
Just me and this screaming baby.
I wish there was an easy way to connect Then to Now. I guess it is best to think of it as crossing a very, very, VERY long bridge. And when you reach the other side and turn around to view the journey you just took, well, suddenly the bridge doesn’t look that long after all.
And what exactly is on the other side of the bridge? It is that desperate love. The love that forms a pit in your belly and brings tears to your eyes by simply thinking of your child. The love that doesn’t even allow you to contemplate a life without this precious gift.
The love that I thought I would never understand.
I normally tell funny stories about Greta. Stories that make my friends and family laugh. Because there is a lot of laughter that goes along with raising a fussy/spirited/high need child.
But today I thought I would tell a story that someone else might connect to…and to reassure that person that there is a bridge. That you are crossing (though you may feel like you aren’t even moving most days).
And you will arrive at the other side.
I know it.
Amy lives in New England with her husband Russell and their adorable three year old daughter Greta. Amy works as a middle school teacher and is amazed at the parallels between adolescents and toddlers. She maintains her sanity by running, baking, and laughing.
Photo credit: luigi diamanti
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6 Responses to “Then and Now”
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When I read this I thought that I was posting this myself. Both of my children were/are fussy babies. My oldest is now two and is the best behaved funniest greatest thing to be around. Now that I am dealing with my second highneeds baby I keep looking at my older daughter knowing that this will end but I just have a hard time with the day to day stuff. WHen you said that you almost wish that there was something wrong so that you could fix it that is how I feel and part of me just wants my baby to be diagnosed with SOMETHING just so that I can do something to help her. I always said that if I could give birth to one year olds I would have like ten kids but I just can not handle the first year. Thank you for telling it like it is and sugar coating it like most moms do (including me).
Very well said and so very true. It’s hard in the early days to believe there is that bridge there, especially when no one around you has ever admitted to needing it in the first place.
Thanks for your honesty. I also had a high needs/colicky baby who is now a spirited delightful 18 month old. I felt trapped and desperate, not at all what I had always imagined motherhood to be. I still reel at the demands on my time and life in general. I really think that i might be the parent of an only child. One of the reasons being that I feel like I’ve fulfilled that urge to be a parent and now realize just what a monumental job it really is. I have my work cut out for me here, and I want to enjoy it, not be overrun by it.
it was such a relief to read this post and go “oh my god i’m not alone!”. though i love my daughter dearly and i’m glad we had her there have been very few enjoyable moments. namely the first 2 weeks when all she did was eat and sleep. from there it became straight hell. i often found myself wondering “what was i thinking when i said ‘let’s have a baby?” the blood-curdling screaming fits, the inability to put her down, the screaming no matter what we did (swing, bouncer, jumperoo, etc). it seems as though everyone else has such an easy perfect child and i was dealt the spawn of satan. i just keep wondering if (not when – if) it will ever get better. i just feel like a prisoner in hell some days. i thought i was the only person on the planet that this could happen to. but now i clearly see that i’m not. thankfully i can say at least i get to experience motherhood – but my daughter will be an only child. i just can’t bear the thought of going through it again. so thank you for being so honest and helping me realize that i’m not alone and it will get better (eventually)!!!
I am so grateful that I found this post because it is exactly how I felt…trapped, isolated, and hating motherhood. I felt duped and shafted by the baby gods. People would ask, “How’s motherhood treating you?” and I would say it had its moments. They assumed I meant the occasional bad moments, but I meant good because everything else seemed so bad. Never in my life did I do so much research to find a reason as to why this little stranger hated me and life so much. There had to be a reason. This couldn’t be normal, right? But, now I can honestly say that I am seeing signs of what may be waiting for me on the other side of the bridge…and it looks promising.
thank you for sharing such an honest and raw post. every time i read something like what you wrote, my ears tear up because truly, few ppl understand. for this reason, i feel wildly disconnected from everyone/everything but there is a solace in not being so alone.