Anne TootillTo Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three
January 3rd 2007 19:56
Josh’s babysitter obviously preferred taking care of the new baby. Ay first I thought it was because she was so tiny and cute. At under 5 pounds (born at 5lb 3oz. she’d come home at 4lb. 15oz. – I know you’re thinking she was too small or premature but neither was true. She was induced 2 1/2 weeks early and unlike Josh who had been born premature, she had plenty of rolls of chub. It’s just that like her mother she was really short…I mean petite)
Anyway, Alex was the size of a doll, she even fit into doll clothes. And she was cuddly. She loved to snuggle into you. And she seemed content. She slept 4 hours at a clip and as for digesting, there seemed to be no problem there, at least not yet. Josh could only suck 1-2 ounces at a time (a very long time) so in order to grow to the 90% percentile weight and height, which is where he eventually ended up (he’s big like his dad) his feedings never ended, just segued from one to the next. Alex, on the other hand, drank 3-4 ounces within a short period of time, burped, then slept. To me it was like a dream come true.
Unfortunately, that’s where the dream ended because Josh had become a wild man. True he was not yet 20 months old, so he was entering his terrible twos, but he was all over the place, never stopping and into everything and wanting nonstop attention. And I was so tired. And I felt so guilty for all those months I’d been in bed. All those months I couldn’t take care of Josh. Maybe, I thought, maybe he was just acting out because I had emotionally abandoned him (I had played with him when his father, grandparents or babysitter had let me- they had to bring him to me because I was confined to bed).
I’d been a bad mother, I’d scarred my son for life and now I had to fix him. I had to love him and be with him and give him attention 24/7 until he knew his mommy loved him. Yes that’s what I had to do. Even though I could barely move. Even though I could barely breath. Even though I really wanted to be with Alex because she felt so good to hold and snuggle . Eve though I had the feeling this was my chance to finally know why other mothers didn’t hate being a mother because their baby’s (unlike Josh) didn’t scream all day and all night and never slept so that I never slept (lasted for 3 months) until I couldn’t focus my thoughts and all I wanted to do was cry and scream too…
But the babysitter didn’t want to take care of Josh (he was so much more work) and after all I hadn’t done for him, I really did love him, and I wanted him to feel loved. And Alex had the babysitter and wouldn’t know the difference anyway. And so even though inside I was angry and disappointed I didn’t say anything to the babysitter. I didn’t ask if we could take turns holding Alex and playing with Josh. Instead even though I could barely sit for long in a chair (6 months of bed rest can really do a number on your stamina) I ran after and played with Josh nonstop, the best I could. I did it because I love my son and because I was his mother and because I’d already failed him once and swore I wouldn’t fail him again and because I had to. Everyone expected me to. I did it because I always did what I had to do.
Anyway, Alex was the size of a doll, she even fit into doll clothes. And she was cuddly. She loved to snuggle into you. And she seemed content. She slept 4 hours at a clip and as for digesting, there seemed to be no problem there, at least not yet. Josh could only suck 1-2 ounces at a time (a very long time) so in order to grow to the 90% percentile weight and height, which is where he eventually ended up (he’s big like his dad) his feedings never ended, just segued from one to the next. Alex, on the other hand, drank 3-4 ounces within a short period of time, burped, then slept. To me it was like a dream come true.
Unfortunately, that’s where the dream ended because Josh had become a wild man. True he was not yet 20 months old, so he was entering his terrible twos, but he was all over the place, never stopping and into everything and wanting nonstop attention. And I was so tired. And I felt so guilty for all those months I’d been in bed. All those months I couldn’t take care of Josh. Maybe, I thought, maybe he was just acting out because I had emotionally abandoned him (I had played with him when his father, grandparents or babysitter had let me- they had to bring him to me because I was confined to bed).
I’d been a bad mother, I’d scarred my son for life and now I had to fix him. I had to love him and be with him and give him attention 24/7 until he knew his mommy loved him. Yes that’s what I had to do. Even though I could barely move. Even though I could barely breath. Even though I really wanted to be with Alex because she felt so good to hold and snuggle . Eve though I had the feeling this was my chance to finally know why other mothers didn’t hate being a mother because their baby’s (unlike Josh) didn’t scream all day and all night and never slept so that I never slept (lasted for 3 months) until I couldn’t focus my thoughts and all I wanted to do was cry and scream too…
But the babysitter didn’t want to take care of Josh (he was so much more work) and after all I hadn’t done for him, I really did love him, and I wanted him to feel loved. And Alex had the babysitter and wouldn’t know the difference anyway. And so even though inside I was angry and disappointed I didn’t say anything to the babysitter. I didn’t ask if we could take turns holding Alex and playing with Josh. Instead even though I could barely sit for long in a chair (6 months of bed rest can really do a number on your stamina) I ran after and played with Josh nonstop, the best I could. I did it because I love my son and because I was his mother and because I’d already failed him once and swore I wouldn’t fail him again and because I had to. Everyone expected me to. I did it because I always did what I had to do.
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