Amen, sista! I still have moments like that. Have you seen Martian Child yet? I love John Cusack (my imaginary boyfriend) but it was a really neat movie about how kids impact your life!

“Things can feel so slow, the minutes crawl and linger and I wish them away one by one, only to think, wait! Oh god, I didn’t mean it! Come back, because it’s also going so fast.”

I get it.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean it! Come back, because it’s also going so fast.”

That sounds just like Adam Sandler in the movie Click…I loved that movie!!

Hang in there it will get better, the boys are adorable :)

Aren’t you almost 5 weeks postpartum now? My midwives called the 4th and 5th weeks postpartum common weeks of hormonal distress (ha, fucking ha). I too found myself sobbing hysterically in my tub after the birth of my second, wondering if I was going to be able to keep on doing this day in day out. Dark times, my friend. Dark times. I do love that you can come here and be so honest. And I thank you for that.

Hang in there and try to remember that Riley will eventually accept his brother. And you won’t always feel like you’ve betrayed him by going off and having another kid. I swear.

Though I will say that it’s been a year and my eldest would still totally sell her sister to the wolves given the opportunity. Thank goodness we don’t have any wolves knocking on our door. :)

Rock on, mamma.

I totally know what you mean. It’s HARD. You know it’ll get better (or at least hope so) but man, right now, you sometimes wonder what the EFF did we do??

That picture of Riley and Dylan is darling. Big brother looks disinterested and yet so cool. Little brother will totally look up to him one day soon.

Give yourself a break mom. Eat some ice cream. It’s been 3 whole weeks – don’t rush into beating yourself up. The body will come back in time. Keep your eyes open for PPD and deal with it if you need to. But really, go get the ice cream container and a spoon. You’ll feel better!

I don’t have kids (other than my students) and I don’t want them at all right now. But I can still recognize excellent writing–damn fine entry.

I get it. Hoo boy, do I get it.

I get it. You are allowed to cry. That always helped me.

I would lay my kids in a Boppy pillow (head propped up) and feed them the bottle with my left hand and ate or drank (Diet Coke!!) with my right hand. Good luck :)

Regular crying jags in the tub sound like a fine idea actually. Most of us probably don’t cry as much as we should to release the stress we’re constantly carrying. Also, soaking in a nice hot bubble-filled tub with a good book sounds like something you deserve at the end of a hard day.

Recruit a babysitter one of these days and get your ass to a spa for a few hours.

P.S. I bet that was a smile! Love the pic!

absolutely wonderful writing. you captured my own sentiments in a way that I could have never articulated. so lovely.

Regarding feeding positions, I used to do this thing with my daughter where I’d sit on the couch with my feet on the coffee table, creating a mountain out of my knees. I’d then sit her in my lap, propped up on my thighs and bottle feed her that way–thus requiring only one hand for feeding baby, and freeing up the other hand for feeding myself!

So, so true… I’m right there with you. Currently typing this comment one-handed while holding fussy 3-week old and listening to almost 3-year-old throwing a tantrum in the other room. It will get better, it will get better…

Your honesty is amazing. I feel like that at 7pm on a Tuesday and I have no kids and no husband and no spontaneous puking machines in my house. You are doing a phenomenal job, Linda, and your writing inspires me to be a better writer myself. Rock the F on!

I don’t think it matters how lucky you are and how awesome everything is…it’s still totally possible to feel absolutely pitiful sometimes. I just wish we (well, me anyway, loyal reader that I am) could do something to make you smile as often as your writing makes us smile. Chin up, girlfriend…we’re cheering for you!

I’ve been there, I hated most of it, and all I can do is assure you that it gets better. Hang in there.

Dang! You moms are brave women! I fear I don’t have the internal fortitude to join you.

Sounds like somebody needs a Fuckit Bucket!

Seriously though, I think you are amazing.

Hugs and a Skinny Cow to you.

I read this post going “yup, ok, yup, …”.

I dunno, maybe this will help??: We had four. (Not what it sounds like. Relatively complicated story. Two are “of my loins”.) The baby is 22. About 3 years ago, the wife said to me, “If you had to do it over again, would you have kids?” and time passed. The clock ticked. I tried to say brightly “Of Course, Dear! The More, The Merrier” or some such shite.

After about 5 minutes, we looked at each other and fell over laughing.

Angry is OK. (within reasonable limits, which I assure you, you are within.) Crying is OK. Helpless is OK, because that is how it is.

I can tell you that eventually you will look back and say that it’s OK, *not not not* because it was “worth it to raise such little darlings” or some such reproductively-correct BS. But because you will embrace the (I hope!) fact that JB is not a dick, and the kids did not bury you in the back yard. or vice versa. I didn’t and the wife didn’t, and I regard that as a Big Win.

Would I do it again? Uh. mmmm. uh, sure, I suppose….yup.

I so remember all those feelings. Only now do I realise that so much of it was pressure I was putting on myself. -Yet I am still considering the whole option of number two because I know that even though I will be aware of all those things I know it won’t make it any easier – and in fact could be harder. But if Sundry can do it surely I can!!

I felt EXACTLY that way just yesterday. Your words resonated completely.

I could swear it was yesterday. MAYBE last week.

But it was 18 years ago when I had two 6-month olds, a two-year-old and a four-year-old. And I don’t understand how those days that seemed to never end somehow turned into 18 years. I know how hard it is to hear this, and I hated my MIL every time she said it to me back then… but this too shall pass — more quickly than you can even fathom.

Hugs,

Carol

perfectly said, i can’t think of a post i’ve connected with more than this. the anger, the guilt, the slowness of time – so precisely captured and yet i LOVE the absence of a neat ending. because there isn’t one and there we are, all flailing around in similar boats. thanks for these words which restored a little of my sanity this morning.

I have been right there before.

My God. You said it EXACTLY as I have felt it.

And no, you didn’t need to explain it but I am so glad you did.

Those GD hormones are a bitch. Thank you.

You’re gonna make it after all! Dum ba da da ba da bum!

You could alway get the trusty beer hat out and use it for soda. Or milkshakes. Whatever.

I started to get tears. I understand the anger, and have hid in in the bathroom crying. It sucks. Definately put beer in the hat. Big hugs!!

I started to get tears. I understand the anger, and have hid in in the bathroom crying. It sucks. Definately put beer in the hat. Big hugs!!

Again, not reading the dozens of earlier posts, so what I say here has likely been said.

I was in your exact position (except I have girls) 7 months ago, with a 2.5ish year old and a newish baby, and the sobbing hysterically in the bathtub. I resented the baby for the fact that she took so much of my time, time that I used to lavish upon my older daughter. I hated feeding a billion times a day, I was exhausted, jealous of my husband for getting out, and I felt guilty for feeling the way I was feeling. It’s slowly getting better though. I only occasionally have days where running off to join the circus in Guatemala seems like the right thing to do.

As for the spare hand for drinking of diet coke or vodka or whatever….I have learned (like the first poster) to both cradle the head and hold the bottle with one arm. It doesn’t always work, and requires some co-operation from the wee one, but I do occasionally get to read my book AND feed the baby all at once.

I know that every word you wrote up there was perhaps a way of vomiting all the crappy things you feel, to just get it gone. But I wonder if you realize how many mothers reading that realize now that they are perfectly normal and it made them smile and it made it easier for them to feed the baby for the sixteenth time that HOUR!
I could tell you it will get easier but you already know that and it doesn’t make the now any easier. Even though the gassy grin gave you a glimpse of things to come.
Yeah it’s worth it.
I have two teenage girls and I felt all of that and more. Now I still feel it..but differently. My eldest is a headstrong, independent know it all and sometimes I imagine seeing her graduate from college and being so completely overwhelmed with emotion. Not because I’m proud, but because I am so goddamned relieved that I got her to where she needed to be without beating the living shit out of her.
We all feel like crappy mothers. Anyone who says they don’t are big fat liars.
Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You are doing an awesome job.

The last paragraph of this was so perfect and true. There is no way to romanticize parenthood when all you can think about is “feed the baby, feed the baby, feed the baby”.

Amen Sistah!

This too shall pass (and the good bits, far too quickly!)

everyone has already said it here, but thanks for your honesty. so few people have the courage to say the things you say…but look at how many support you! we are not there to take a turn feeding the baby or entertain riley so you can take a bath in peace, but we are all pulling for you from the internets! i have not had children, and the older i get the more i realize how it’s so NOT like what you think it is. and i’m glad i can read you and get a preview, because i won’t feel bad if and when i decide to have my own. i had to laugh at some of the comments left here about the beer hat. please do get one–diet coke will make you feel better about life and you can take a picture of this whole contraption for us. hang in there.

Did you know that having a baby is considered to be one of life’s big crises? I remember that from a Sociology class I was required to take. If I remember it correctly it ranked highly on the list along with death and divorce. SO in saying that I think you’re taking it rather well. It’s not easy, and there’s definitely not always a cherry on top.
I say forget the qualifying statements, like “but it’s all SO worth it.” Cause well, of course it is, but by god you can feel shitty about it, and that’s it. You rock and you’re wonderful and you’re doing a FAN-f’in-tastic job, bottom line.

that is EXACTLY how I feel TODAY.

Yes. Exactly.

Perfectly written. Damn girl. And can I get a big AMEN?!

Not only do I get it, but I’m still feeling like that frequently, at almost nine months post-partum. I don’t need you to explain it, but THANK YOU for articulating it.

I am due to have my first baby pretty much any minute (ANY minute, you hear me in there, kid?) and I really appreciate your honesty. I have a feeling I am going to sound/feel just like you do. It makes me feel so guilty that I don’t look forward to meeting my precious little angel knowing that I have weeks of sleepless drudgery in front of me. So, thanks.

Ditto to this. I remember feeling this way and sort of hating myself and feeling sorry for myself and yet I loved it too. Also, another mom I knew who had a baby around the same time seemed SO blissful about it all like there was nothing about her life with this new baby was remoting dull and I was all “Are you fuckin’ June Cleaver, or what?” (to myself of course!)

The worst part is when you are in it it is hard to see your way out of it. As another person said this too shall pass. Hang in there!

hmmm and I’m seriously considering doing this again.

I get it.

I think I’m the last person in the world to find your blog, but I’ve been reading religiously since just before you gave birth.

I’m expecting my second child in August and reading about your experiences with two is bracing. It helps so much to hear your honesty, to hear what it will really be like.

I’m so glad I stumbled on you. And I hope each day gets a little better for you.

Wow! Almost 7 years ago I could have written this post. Lots of hugs and understanding!
By the way, to free your feeding arm prop the bottle under your chin. You can’t drink that way but you can type ;-)

I get it and have been where you are. Thanks for your honesty. My kids are 5 and 8 now, and I still sometimes feel guilty for not “enjoying every minute” like some others seem to do. Reading your entry reminded me that I am/was normal. And, p.s., it does get easier!

amen!

I don’t have the slightest idea what you are going through (no kids), but can still feel empathy and sympathy. The sense that you really never have a moment off. Even when you have a window of alone time, you are still on call. Permanently on call when you are not actively on duty.

You are what is good, decent and awesome about the internet. I know you can’t go check out in an office for prolonged periods of time, but I hope that you come to realize that there is this whole other side of you that comes through in your writing. As a loyal reader, I see Linda the woman and writer first, and mother and wife second, and I admire all of your roles.

I just wanted you to know that even if you feel one dimensional right now, I suspect most of your readers see all of your amazing dimensions and respect the hell out of you for them.

Be well.

I also have to echo Mixette’s response. Thanks for giving us outsiders an insight. I HAVE given birth, but since I gave my baby up to adoption, I do not know the parenting woes. But I DO know the post-partum blues. I feel your pain, Linda, it must be hard. But even as only a birth parent I know the fierce love and devotion that one feels for their child(ren). It consumes you, and you’ve captured that well in your post.

a friend mentioned your blog with unabashed admiration, so i decided to take a gander… & now, in my pj’s after what can only be described as a day like yours, i am drenched with tears (& mooshed toodler food) & entirely grateful for the honestly that you dish out to strangers. i feel a million times more normal & encouraged for the continuation of this grimy, freakin fabulousness called motherhood!!!

Indeed. You pegged it.

I have twins and the baby bottle holder saved my life.

Go here: http://babydoodads.com/ and order yourself one. It will change your life!

Plain and simple, you are awesome. You put out there what every mother feels at some point in time. The ones who say they don’t? Are lying through the skin of their gritted teeth. It isn’t easy, there’s always tears involved, but it always seems to end up being okay somehow.

I was lucky in that when I had my second child, my daughter was six-years-old, and out of the needy toddler stage. Now we’re trying for number 3, and there’s a part of me that’s dreading what this will do to my relationship with Gabe. But, past the dread, I know it’ll work out. If I could just get pregnant, that is. (Ten months of trying and counting. C’mon eggs…GO TEAM OVARIES!)