Fee-lings, nothing more than fee-eelings

The random and frequent crying spells stopped three weeks after my son was born, but as a human governed by the endocrine system, the mama feelings never stop. One thing I learned after 10 years in weekly therapy (thanks Mom!) is that they are all valid and natural, even the ones that make you feel like a horrible human being.

Here, I provide a little tour of some of the feelings I’ve experienced over the past few months (defining the term 'feelings' broadly):


Reminiscence: I miss the days of sleeping in, wearing the same outfit all day, going out at night, and not asking anyone “Are you pooping?” The days when the only person I had to worry about was myself. This doesn’t mean I don’t love my son to death, but who doesn’t miss sleeping in? (When reminiscence turns to resentment, that’s when you should contact a mental health professional. Honestly.)

Boredom: I’m home with my son five days a week. I might be busy changing diapers, going to play dates, cooking meals, and singing songs, but none of that stuff is intellectually stimulating. This is why I work two days a week--I need my brain to function beyond peek-a-boo. Between napping and meals, it’s sometimes difficult to schedule anything with friends, so on occasion, we go to TJMaxx just to break the boredom. It’s a very expensive remedy. Make no mistake--I’m thankful that I have a career that allows me to be home with my son, and I enjoy my time with him, but he’s one--we’re not discussing politics or string theory. I’m sure it will get more exciting when he’s in the fifth grade and gets to re-teach me long division.

Thankfulness: Now that I’ve read all the pregnancy and baby books, I know about all the terrible things that can happen during pregnancy and childbirth. Sometimes I wonder how any of us made it onto this earth between listeriosis, premature births, preeclampsia, and a long list of other horrors. I stand over my little dude’s crib at night and feel like the luckiest person in the world because, with the tiniest twist of fate, things could have been quite different. All of this knowledge makes me unbelievably nervous about having a second child (some day)!

Please leave me alone: Not just my kid, but everyone. I need 10-15 minutes after putting the baby to bed to zen out. Let me scroll through Facebook on my phone or read an article I tagged three weeks ago. Let me lay face-down on the bed while the cat licks my fingers. Now that my son is quasi-mobile, I have to bring him to the bathroom with me, so a little alone time goes a long way.

Is this what I have to look forward to?: I get together with friends who have older children, and I think “Oh. My. God. I’ll have to explain penises to him some day. And vaginas. And strangers. And death. And Santa.” Frightening.

Unsexy: Between the pregnancy acne scars, the unbelievable hair loss followed by an awkward growing-in phase, what you might define as “sway back,” and the dark circles under my eyes, I’m not feeling like a tigress. My boobs shrunk to a disappointing size after I stopped nursing, so I don’t even have those to make me feel better. Even when I attempt to look socially acceptable and don some makeup and a fashionable top, I can’t quite give myself the thumbs-up in the mirror. To a degree, I stopped caring because I have much bigger things to worry about, but to a degree, I still care (a lot).

Everything in this list but thankfulness makes me feel like a horrible person, because isn’t everything about children wonderful and exciting? No, it’s not. A lot of it is, like our ride home from daycare today during which my son laughed and blew raspberries the entire time with nothing but his cup and my off-key rendition of BINGO to entertain him. Hugs, kisses, tickles, and milestones are also wonderful. But tantrums, poop explosions, and teething are not glorious and covered in glitter. So, when I feel like a terrible parent for joking that I’m going to sell my kid on eBay or throw him to the gypsies, I remember something my former therapist told me: how you feel and how you act are two entirely separate things. Thus, when my son is having a whiny day and I want to yell “DUDE! YOU’RE FINE! For the love of kittens, let me pee in peace!” I don’t. When he’s driving me nuts, I kiss him to remind myself how much I love him. Even if he punches me back.