Bad Mommy

I'm going to tell you something.  Some of you may not like it.  Some of you may not understand it.  But my hope is that some of you will perhaps relate, and you will tell me so.

Okay, so here it is.

I didn't really enjoy those first few months of motherhood at all.  In fact, at one point, I actually regretted the decision to have a baby.  I did not want to hold my baby constantly.  I never said, "I just want to eat your face!"  I did not stare at him for hours on end.  I didn't immediately feel like a mother.  I took every opportunity to leave the house, run an errand, get some time alone.  In fact, for a lot of the time, I wished I was at work.  Or anywhere else.

Those first 2-3 months of Will's life were some of the hardest, most stressful, and yes, saddest days I've ever had.

Some of it was due to the fact that breast-feeding was very challenging for us, and I really beat myself up about that.  Some of it was that my Mom left 4 days after we came home from the hospital, and Tim was back at work immediately.  Will and I were alone together all day.  And as he was up every two hours eating, we were alone together all night too.  I was lonely.  I was in physical pain.  I missed my freedom, my independence, my old life.  I was overwhelmed with the experience & responsibility of caring for 100% of another person's needs.

"Aren't you just so happy?"  "Don't you just love being a mother?"  "Isn't he just the best thing that ever happened to you?"

And now, the answer is yes.  But back then....are you fucking kidding me?

And that was another reason I felt so lonely.  Yeah, of course some women will mention "baby blues" or even go as far as "postpartum", but you really only hear about the *extreme* cases.  We don't ever really talk about the minor cases, the small things.  We truly believe we are alone.

And even now, as I talk to other mothers, both new & experienced, I've got to tell you, I still feel alone.  Maybe I just need to find my rose-colored glasses and look back on those first few months differently.  With all of my heart, I wish that I had been able to enjoy that time.  I wish that I just loved every single second of it.  I wish that I didn't want to hand my baby off every chance I got.  I really wish that were the case.  But it's not.  And while I am truly so very happy for every other mother that *has* been able to love every moment of new motherhood, I just don't understand it.

And so now, after letting you in on my secret shame, I ask you, am I truly alone here?  Am I really the only new mommy that wished, just a little bit, or maybe even a lot, that she wasn't?  Tell me.  I'm begging you. Tell me your dirty little early motherhood secrets.

If you don't judge me, I won't judge you.

Another POV

Seattle's Real Underage Problem?  Clearly, Hanna Olson would not enjoy this blog either. 

Okay, y'all, let me break it down for you. 

First, it's not illegal to have a baby in a bar that has a distinct and seperate bar area.  Obviously, Will isn't all up in his Graco sitting on the bar next to your tequila shots and packs of Camels.  If there isn't a "No Minors" sign on the front door, your baby is in.  Wouldn't it be nice if there was some "No Assholes" policy that had to be abided in the same manner?

Now, I understand that you're not enjoying your PBR if my kid is screaming his face off next to you.  I'M not enjoying my wine if my kid is screaming his face off next to me, trust.  We're going to hightail it out of that joint as soon as this happens.  Or, one of us (and by one of us, I mean Tim) will be heading outside to calm the kid.  Now if only you could do the same for your drunk-off-his-ass friend who won't stop screaming during his pool game or hitting on me when I go to the loo. 

And seriously, let ME worry about the decibel level and the appropriateness of my kid watching you make a fool out of yourself after your third car bomb.  He's seen worse.

Also, consider the state of the parents of this city.  If stopping into Naked City for a beer during our Saturday evening walk helps keep us normal, sane and not-constantly-baby-talking parents, isn't this actually doing Seattle a service?   If not Seattle, then at least the folks that interact with us on an every day basis. 

Finally, if my baby is at a table next to you, chillaxing quietly in his Manny's onesie, among the dull roar of voices, the punk jukebox, and the clink of pint glasses, think about this.  My kid at 6 weeks is already cooler than you'll ever be.  True story.