I had had one fleeting moment of wavering conviction, merely an act of habit. And as much as I would have love to have felt the guilt, I didn't. There was a blankness, a blindness in my maternal extinct because this was not a life, it was a death. The feeling of not feeling was a comfort.
Is this my midlife crisis? Without the fancy car, without the whore on the side... is this it? Do women experience something similar when they try to return to life after kids?
They'll be awake soon. My beating hearts. They are snuggled in their beds, safe from the complexities of the world. I, their shield. “Someday you will ache like I do,” I whisper out to them, wishing that I could curl up to them and be absorbed in their peaceful dreams. “But not today.”
You are my mom. But somewhere along the line I became the nurturer. The unconditional love between us has allowed us to ignore our identities as people and to just fall into these roles that are locked in the guilt and hurt that strikes me at the core.... over and over and over again.
"Life as we knew it was gone" - all new parents say that and while it is definitely true, I think we leave out the most important part of that - it's not just life that changes, WE change.
It took me months to find out I was in the midst of the worst depression and anxiety attack that I had ever been in; it took me weeks to reach out for help; and then it took me months to thankfully climb back out.
Some days it gets too much. Not the crying, or the whining, or the bickering, or the constant questions. It's not the runny noses, or the cries for snacks, or the screams for attention.