WhitneyTo Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three
January 15th 2007 18:29
Woke up this morning and fed, changed and dressed the kids. Feeling numb. Walking around, but inside it’s as if I never woke up.
Still in pajamas myself when my husband finishes getting dressed and is ready to leave for work. I don’t know what it was. Maybe I was thinking about how he got to get dressed in peace while I had to wait until I could find a moment to race into the bathroom and shower at lightening speed to the background sound of crying and complaining kids. Maybe I was thinking about his drive to and from work and how he could spend it listening to the news, music, a radio show or just thinking of anything he wanted. Maybe I was thinking about how he got to walk out of the house without first having to diaper two babies, put together a diaper bag with two changes of clothes, bottles and snacks and then navigate a toddler and an infant down two flights of stairs and into the car (and two car seats as my son, who hated the car seat, struggled endlessly). How he could stop the car and get out anywhere, anytime without first having to open up the heavy double stroller and take out first one, then the next child and belt them in and then push that heavy load to and from wherever our destination.
I’m not sure what was going through my mind when I followed him - in my pajamas – to the steps (that led to the front door) and as he walked down the stairs I sat myself down and wrapped my arms around his leg. And then I did something I thought I’d never in my life let myself do. I begged. I begged him not to go. “Please, don’t leave me,” I begged. “Help me. Something’s wrong. There’s no more me.”
He looked at me kindly, gently removed my arms and he said, “but I have to go to work. You know that. I’ll call you later.”
And then he left…me all alone.
Still in pajamas myself when my husband finishes getting dressed and is ready to leave for work. I don’t know what it was. Maybe I was thinking about how he got to get dressed in peace while I had to wait until I could find a moment to race into the bathroom and shower at lightening speed to the background sound of crying and complaining kids. Maybe I was thinking about his drive to and from work and how he could spend it listening to the news, music, a radio show or just thinking of anything he wanted. Maybe I was thinking about how he got to walk out of the house without first having to diaper two babies, put together a diaper bag with two changes of clothes, bottles and snacks and then navigate a toddler and an infant down two flights of stairs and into the car (and two car seats as my son, who hated the car seat, struggled endlessly). How he could stop the car and get out anywhere, anytime without first having to open up the heavy double stroller and take out first one, then the next child and belt them in and then push that heavy load to and from wherever our destination.
I’m not sure what was going through my mind when I followed him - in my pajamas – to the steps (that led to the front door) and as he walked down the stairs I sat myself down and wrapped my arms around his leg. And then I did something I thought I’d never in my life let myself do. I begged. I begged him not to go. “Please, don’t leave me,” I begged. “Help me. Something’s wrong. There’s no more me.”
He looked at me kindly, gently removed my arms and he said, “but I have to go to work. You know that. I’ll call you later.”
And then he left…me all alone.
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