In the early hours of my day, I often find myself awake long before the sun rises. I remain in bed, nursing my infant, attempting to prolong that fleeting moment of peace before reality sets in. The exhaustion is overwhelming, and if I’m being completely honest, I sometimes wish I could just stay in that moment forever.
As the day progresses, the routine begins. I pour cereal and coffee while trying to keep my baby’s curious hands at bay. I savor the fleeting moments of laughter and coos before the inevitable fussiness arises. I quickly take us to the bathroom, playing peekaboo with a towel to distract her from crying. Showering becomes a joint effort, as I know she will unleash her loud protests otherwise. Doubts flood my mind—am I doing this right? Am I too lenient or too strict with her cries?
Once we’re out of the shower, I start drying my hair, conscious of how it looks and wondering what that says about me. Am I vain? My body feels foreign, and I can’t help but wish it resembled what it once was. I lay my baby down for her first nap and attempt to catch a breath. I scroll through articles and play games on my phone, telling myself to rest while she sleeps. But that rarely works. When she wakes, we play, and I cherish the joy in her laughter. Yet, I can’t ignore the household chores that linger, a constant reminder of my responsibilities. I know I’m fortunate, yet feelings of resentment bubble beneath the surface.
The time arrives to pick up my older child from school. I eagerly await her chatter, her intelligence and humor brightening my day. Home again, we snack, and the familiar plea for screen time begins. Guilt washes over me—am I allowing too much screen exposure? The baby needs to nap again, so the iPad becomes a necessity. When she wakes, I strive to entertain both girls. My older child’s affection pulls at my heart, yet I find myself yearning for solitude, for a quiet, dark room just for me.
When my partner returns home, our communication has become primarily digital. We exist in separate realms, and though he offers support and time for myself, I often hesitate to accept. I feel the weight of trying to fit into the roles expected of me, while simultaneously wishing for a moment of respite. I question if I’m doing enough, if I’m worthy of this life I’ve built. Those feelings of gratitude clash with waves of ungratefulness that echo in my mind.
After a long evening filled with dinner and bath time, I struggle to get the baby to sleep. She clings to me, and I wonder if I’m fostering dependency. I’ve been through this before, yet uncertainty looms. The questions swirl endlessly, leaving me feeling inadequate as both a mother and a wife.
As I lay there, my partner texts, asking me to join him. Part of me wishes to connect, yet another part desires the comfort of my solitude. It’s a constant battle between fulfilling my family’s needs and my own desire for quietness. I chastise myself for these thoughts, reminding myself of the fortune I possess. I am aware that others face far more significant challenges.
Eventually, the cycle of latching, unlatching, and fussing begins again through the night. I know this phase won’t last forever, but in this moment, it feels unending. If I’m being honest, I don’t feel particularly lucky or grateful, and that realization weighs heavily on my heart.
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In summary, the experience of motherhood can be fraught with challenges, self-doubt, and the longing for personal space. It is essential to acknowledge these feelings and understand that they are part of the complex journey of parenting.