WhitneyTo Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three
January 2nd 2007 16:02
I was home from the hospital. And I was so tired. I don’t think I can truly explain how exhausted I felt. It was different than anything I’d every felt before. Even when I hadn’t slept an entire night that exhaustion didn’t come close to comparing to what I was feeling. The best way to describe it is that every part of me felt heavy. Like there was a fifty pound weight sitting on each of my body parts. My arm felt heavy to lift. I had problems breathing. Every breath took an effort. And something else. I felt like I wasn’t feeling. No, like I wasn’t feeling right? Or was it that I wasn’t feeling anything? I know I’m not explaining it well, but it’s the best I can do.
My husband never took off from work. Not this time or last. The parents weren’t around because they too worked. However Josh’s babysitter was still with us. For another couple of weeks. That’s as much as I could afford with the left over disability from that wonderful but short-lived job I’d had before I became pregnant again.
Besides now that I was no longer confined to bed it was my duty, my job to take care of my children and everything else, while my husband went to work. I was supposed to do it. That was my job now. Even though I could barely move.
Even though walking the short distance from the bedroom to the bathroom took a monumental effort, I knew I had no right to complain. Hadn’t I had nearly six months of resting in bed already? So what if I could barely breath (I was asthmatic, but until then mildly so) and I woke during the night gasping for air. It didn’t matter. I had told my husband, I told my parents what was happening and they were all sympathetic, but I could tell what they were thinking, the bottom line was that I no longer had an excuse not to do what I was supposed to do.
And what was I supposed to do? To take care of everyone else. Like I had done until my pregnancies. And so that’s what I would do. What I was supposed to do. Which is what I always did.
My husband never took off from work. Not this time or last. The parents weren’t around because they too worked. However Josh’s babysitter was still with us. For another couple of weeks. That’s as much as I could afford with the left over disability from that wonderful but short-lived job I’d had before I became pregnant again.
Besides now that I was no longer confined to bed it was my duty, my job to take care of my children and everything else, while my husband went to work. I was supposed to do it. That was my job now. Even though I could barely move.
Even though walking the short distance from the bedroom to the bathroom took a monumental effort, I knew I had no right to complain. Hadn’t I had nearly six months of resting in bed already? So what if I could barely breath (I was asthmatic, but until then mildly so) and I woke during the night gasping for air. It didn’t matter. I had told my husband, I told my parents what was happening and they were all sympathetic, but I could tell what they were thinking, the bottom line was that I no longer had an excuse not to do what I was supposed to do.
And what was I supposed to do? To take care of everyone else. Like I had done until my pregnancies. And so that’s what I would do. What I was supposed to do. Which is what I always did.
| 53 |
| Vote |
Comment by Bhumika
Political Minds