I just stumbled on a new blog that makes me feel a lot better about myself.
Lately I have been finding being a mum very hard. I lecture myself about this in my head – how can I feel this way after everything I went through to have Lola? How can I feel this way when I am one of the very lucky few to have a baby? Am I letting all the fear and worry about my work override the important, personal stuff? Have I lost sight of the miracle that is Lola? And, how can I be on the way to having another baby? Am I actually cut out to be a mother? Maybe this was all a big mistake.
It all sounds so ridiculous when I put it down here “on paper”. This has all been whirling around in my head for a while now, and I have been so angry with myself for being so lacklustre and useless. My self-esteem is waaaaay down. I feel very distant from my friends, like I just can’t connect. I just don’t feel I am coping.
I don’t know how to explain to DH what’s wrong. I think he must think I am lazy. Or a bit pathetic. And I feel that I am lazy, and a bit pathetic. Years ago, after my boyfriend dumped me in what was the worst breakup of my life, I remember feeling quite desperate and calling him… I was just so confused about why he had dumped me. He never gave me any reason. I was on a bleak wintery train platform in south London, living in the shoebox sized spare room of a friend, and walking around feeling a physical pain in my stomach that was just my misery taking form. He said to me, “You are such a victim”. It stuck, as these things tend to. And lately I have been wondering if maybe I AM a victim? Do I play that role? Am I playing that role with my work life after losing my role while I was pregnant with Lola?
Reading this post:
I recognised a lot of the feelings Joanna talks about. I have never heard of depression linked to weaning. And I don’t want to go all Dr Google on myself, but it clicks. I was lucky enough to have lots of milk and very few breastfeeding problems. We used to sing a little song when it was time for night feeds: “Yo soy una vaca lechera, no soy una vaca cualquiera..” (I am a milking cow, not just any kind of cow…) Lola would luxuriate there in my bosom for many a happy half hour to hour. And now… she’s there and not much is coming out. This cow is nearly dry.
I am not a pathetic type usually. Ok, I like a bit of time on the sofa, but I’m not lazy either. I love my daughter. Love love love love love her. And I don’t really think I am a bad mum. But I feel these things lately. Maybe it is my hormones playing some kind fo sinister joke on me.
I am going to do a bit more research on this; but in the meantime I am going to go for a swim and breathe and try to be a bit kinder to myself.