I've battled for some time with this overwhelming urge to take flight and go. I was really unhappy for the first 6 months of motherhood, and I had thought it might have been that I wasn't ready, or that I had made the wrong decision in not choosing to adopt Luca. I hated being stuck in the house, and when spring came, instead of being happy with the flowers, I was angry with my inability to travel like all of my nomadic friends. I would spend a great amount of my time angry, and upset because I felt like a caged bird. I wasn't a fun person to be around at the time, but that was okay because I never really left the house. The only thing that ever really made me happy at all was Luca. His little smile, soft skin and the smell of his breath.
At one point, I thought that maybe I was suffering from Postpartum Depression. I can look back objectively now, and have made a few clear revelations. Being a mother is difficult and early on, I wasn't receiving help from my partner. I was never upset with Luca, but I envied of every other mom I came across who had free hands for even just an hour. I didn't blame dennis either, because he was just as confused as I was, trying to find his way through all of it. We really were just kids. I don't think we ever really factored parenthood into our lives at all until it happened.
I had been homeless for a few years, and in an abusive relationship for years before that, and I think I just knew what everyone was saying about my pregnancy. Anytime I told anyone, I could always here the concern in their voices "Are you sure you're ready for it?" "Is it a good thing?" and the things people were saying behind my back were much worse. Knowing all of this, I guess I became so caught up with appearances, that I never talked about how I was feeling. I was so worried about messing things up that I never took a moment for myself. I would look amazing after pregnancy, my house immaculate, I ate an almost obsessively balanced diet through my pregnancy. No plastic cups (bpa) or mcdonalds for this momma. I researched everything I could about pregnancy and parenting and didn't realize how rigid the limitations I was setting for myself were. It really made everything worse, but I know I'll never give anything but support to struggling moms. I think I had trapped myself in this metality of "perfection" and when I gained weight or my house became a bit messy, I was ruthless in blaming myself.
I've learned to let go of all of that, and now I'm taking time for myself. I know my demeanor has changed. I feel much more confidant, and no longer look for fault in other moms. Feeling as if the whole world is judging you as a mother really makes you find fault with other moms who are also doing their best. There have been times where I looked at someone feeding her child McDonalds, and felt so repulsed by it, and never really realized that I was doing the same thing that made parenting so difficult for me. I was adding to the problem rather then being a part of the solution.
I've lost my "touch" with blogging, and I think it's because I've feared letting anyone know what I was really thinking, or how I was feeling. This is me, and I'm flawed. I'll be honest with you all from here on in. :]
