Parenting Blows…

I think feeling depressed after having a baby is very taboo in our society. One is supposed to love every second with that little human full of piss and vinegar. You picture cuddle sessions 24/7, along with a happy baby that smiles every time you look at him/her. “Sleeping like a baby” is a common phrase. Who the hell came up with that? I wish both that statement and unicorns were real. But neither of them are, so I am dealing with it, day by day.

This is the reality. Babies are born with no ability to speak, smile only when they pass gas for at least a month, and cry to express their needs. They sleep 18 hours a day on average, but they can’t figure out that night time is when they should be doing this sleeping. Your breasts are the size of bowling balls, hard as rocks, and spewing out more liquid than the Trevi Fountain.

Literally this much breast milk.

I have accepted defeat. I am not going to pretend like every part of parenting is going great. It’s so meaningless to do this. Anyone that has/had a child knows that they are screaming banshees intent on sucking you dry of funds and energy for at least the first year. The sooner you accept that, the easier it is to NOT bash your head into a wall.

After I had Layla, I never really felt signs of Postpartum Depression. Although I was about a knowledgeable as a bat on the ins and outs of raising a child, I never really felt hopeless. I always told myself once she got to six months of age, it really does get easier. Not to say there weren’t any nights of screaming and crying, swearing off coitus and children altogether. There were many of those nights, but I knew it would pass, and I had people to talk to about it.

With Caroline, I am now accepting the fact that I am suffering from Postpartum Depression and it sucks ass. I wanted to be a professional at this whole mom business with her, I mean, she is my second. I thought I knew babies like the back of my hand.

Even this much cuteness sometimes doesn't make up for the evil side.

Even this much cuteness sometimes doesn’t make up for the evil side.

Caroline is a whole different human. She NEVER stops crying. She always wants to be held. Although she has her cute moments more and more, she is still just a very demanding child. The opposite of what Layla was at her age. I think the most upsetting part of this whole situation is the line being drawn between Alex and I when it comes to Layla and Caroline. Alex takes care of Layla, and I do the diaper and spit up duty. It has also created a tension between Layla and I, more Layla towards me. When I am feeding Caroline and she wants to play, I have to tell her I can’t, and the look on her face is comparable to if she had just seen a dozen puppies brutally murdered.

For the past 7 weeks I have held all of my emotions in, and it started to cause a huge problem in our house. I had begun picking fights with Alex, Layla and I yelled at each other like sisters on a weekly basis, and I cried for no reason almost every single night.

I want to stress how important it is to NOT ever hold these feelings in. I finally decided to be honest with myself, and obviously everyone I know, that I am not okay. I am not a perfect mother, I may love my children but there are times where I just don’t like them. I see people my age doing what I would have been if I didn’t have children. But, admitting all of this only makes me realize that I do love my life. I want to pull my hair out, but I also want to snuggle my children and hug my husband.

Sharing these feelings also helped the situation in our home. Because Alex had no idea I was going through this, he didn’t know I wanted his help, and his attention more than usual. He gave me a break from having two kids constantly, which gave me a chance to take a look at my wants and goals.

And now I have these cute little girls that I am happier to spend my days with. I know I will still have many horrible days ahead of me, but that’s what an evening glass of wine is for. Maybe one day I’ll be so lucky to find a babysitter willing to watch two little girl’s so the husband and I can get dinner alone.

For now, I enjoy the spit up on my shirt and Layla’s dinner in my hair. Every. Single. Night.


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