My wife and baby are napping on the couch, the dog is snuggled into his couch and finally we are the only four people in the room. Bliss. Somehow in the 10 days since Yogi arrived, I have morphed into an alternately weepy and hostile Wicked Witch of the West. I don’t know this person and I definitely don’t like her. Luckily, my wife is the picture of calm, confident motherhood. The woman who struggles to function without at least an hour of good, hard exercise every day and who is something of a recluse, has spent the last 10 days snuggling happily on the couch and visiting easily with all the folks who have been here to welcome the little man. Suddenly I need to list all of those people. Here goes…
- My parents
- Her parents
- Her brother
- My best friend
- Her mother (came for a visit by herself after the birth)
- Her brother returns with his wife for 3 days and they are flying in tonight
I am certainly the most selfish, ungrateful person on the planet for wanting nothing more than to be left alone when all of these people have been more than wonderful to us. They have cooked, cleaned, taken care of the dog, washed our clothes, rocked the baby so we could sleep and most importantly, loved our boy. We have truly needed the help, but I spent way too much of the day yesterday chanting “don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me” over and over in my head. Not pretty. Not even close.
I think they call this sleep deprivation and more than a touch of the baby blues. Of course admitting that just makes me feel like a big ol baby myself. I mean, if you remember I didn’t even give birth to this child. I’m not dealing with the c-section incision or the residual swelling and it’s certainly not my nipples that Yogi screams at during every feeding when we attempt to get him on without the nipple shield (anyone ever dealt with this? so much more to say on this topic, but don’t have the energy right now). So why am I such a wreck? This other mother gig ain’t easy, at least not right now. Right now I’m just tired and overwhelmed and feeling like I don’t really have anything he needs. I can do laundry and run the dishwasher, but really, some people pay people to do that stuff for them. None of that is making me feel like his mother.
Man, this is an ugly post. Unfortunately it’s all true. If anyone is reading this, please send a little goodwill my direction. The next post will be all about the good stuff because there is so much of that too. It’s just a little hard to see right now.