Monday, December 15, 2014

I Wanna Get Better

There are things people don't like to talk about, especially in relation to things that are supposed to be joyous. There's a fear of being perceived as incapable, less than or bad in some way. I know this, because I've felt it too. Not at any time more so than I have since I had to admit to myself after months of telling myself "it's just hormones" or "the baby blues" that there was something more going on. Even after I checked off several boxes on the PPD check list.

Motherhood is one of those things that is held in such sacred and high regard that to speak ill of it, to let anyone know that you've found anything other than joy in it, causes you shame. I've been feeling so very ashamed, so very heavy and alone, only willing to admit my feelings to Joe. I felt myself withdrawing, I felt myself cracking under the weight of my own unmet and wholly unrealistic expectations of what motherhood would look like for me.

I've found myself beating the shit out of myself for not being this perfect, beautiful, serene zen hippie mama that I expected and wanted to be. I've railed against my body - this miraculous and strong vessel that grew and bore this baby- for it's faults and weaknesses, because I can't wear my child the way I had envisioned and longed to. Because I have 2 left hands and 10 thumbs and can't get the whole wrapping thing down (goodbye dreams of beautiful, heavily filtered photos of my baby curled up and snoozing in hand woven fabric) and then because my back will spasm with angry ropes of fiery sciatica if I carry or wear him in the strappy buckle carriers I CAN use for too long. (so long dreams of painting while I wear my soothed, snoozing infant). I curse it because the same happens when I sway my hips and rock him to sooth him when he's sick or uncomfortable. I've been cursing it and wishing for a new one because neither one of us particularly likes it when I have to soothe him laying or sitting down. We both crave motion, a calming rhythmic motion, when we're uncomfortable. He is so much my son.

And I've been cursing myself and this brain of mine, so filled with emotions, for being anything but happy and delighted by this child I wasn't even sure I could have. For daring to be annoyed with him, for feeling my blood pressure rise when the cries of an overtired child can't be soothed away easily or sometimes at all. I've hated myself for whispering to the night to please shut him up so we could sleep and loathed myself for putting him down to cry and walk away to go get my head on straight again and calm back down when I feel myself becoming agitated. How could I?

I've felt like a monster; who gets mad at a baby? Who asks a baby to kindly shut the fuck up - even in gentle whispered sing song tones?

Apparently, every one. But I've been incapable of giving myself the grace needed to accept that and to accept that in that aspect anyway, I'm perfectly normal. And that lack of acceptance and grace coupled with the unmet expectations I had for myself, sent me down a spiral. The waves of sadness, darkness and less than have dragged me under and left me gasping in heaving breaths for air. They've tossed me on to my knees, a tear stained crying mess of a woman who can barely breath or find a kindness to give herself. And they've left me on the shores of endless doubt and hopeless dark skies, wondering aloud if my boys wouldn't be better off with another woman to care for them.

One who isn't a giant fuck up. One who doesn't constantly worry. One who doesn't cry and feel so very emotional. One with a strong body and mind.

And the light broke in, through those clouds for one shining moment. The full moon's kiss on my tear stained raw face, and I knew that these are all lies. All a pack of motherfucking evil, hateful lies. That it isn't my fault, that I don't deserve these feelings, that there is nothing to be ashamed of or scared of. That I'm worthy of love and motherhood and most importantly, of healing.

And I reached out. In one big afternoon of emailing and calling, I reached out. To my sisters far and near and I was lifted up and held. And I was gifted with their stories, so many so similar to my own. So many that I had never known or would have guessed had done this dark dance as well. So many women suffer this in silence. So many women never reach out. So many of my beloved sisters were too ashamed to tell anyone, some were scared of themselves but were too afraid of what others thought to reach out. And that is why I'm sharing. That is why I'm placing this darkness, raw and unedited, in to the glaring light of day.

Because fuck being afraid. Fuck the shame. Fuck people who think depression is fake or all in our heads. Fuck those who think we're weak. And fuck the unrealistic standards that women are saddled with - by themselves and by others.

I've reached out. I'm starting therapy tonight, despite the fear I feel at opening up to a stranger face to face and despite it not being in my budget, because this isn't my fault. And I deserve to get better.

And, so does every other person out there who needs it.


  1. Hi Danni, What a beautiful little boy!!
    My two sons are grown men now but I remember those days of feeling helpless, not good enough of a mother, angry, tired and wishing for some one to take over just long enough so I could regroup.

    I would take a shower and cry the whole time, hoping my wailing was being drowned out by the drumming of the water in the tub.
    These emotions happen to all mother's if we're honest with ourselves. Share your worries with hubby and /or a trusted friend, sometimes just voicing those inner demons releases them and takes away their power.
    Take care of yourself so you can take care of your men.

  2. Hi Danni
    Can I just say... You ARE EPIC, I mean, OMG, I went through exactly the same thing when I had my first born, I just lost myself, I wasn't sure who I'd become, but you are dealing with this now, you're getting a handle on it and you are seeking therapy. You should be so proud of yourself, that's a massive step you just took. Well done xx

    Sending you all lots of love
    Pixie xxxxx

  3. It is not just mothers who go through this when a baby is born...all caregivers do, especially if they are a woman. I'm just a nanny, but when the second little girl was born in the family I work for, I went through a deep depression too. She cried all the time, spit up on my constantly, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat. And being alone with her and a two year old on top of was hell. I would dream of killing her in the most inconspicuous ways. How awful of a person do I have to be to be thinking of those things?! Then I realized its normal to feel like this and that I would NEVER, EVER harm a child, even on our worst day. We never feel like we are good enough or that we are doing a good job. Feeling like that means you are doing things right. Be the best you can be and know you will never be perfect and its best that way. You are not alone Danni and you never will be.

  4. A very brave and honest post. *hugs* We've all been there. Having people close by to vent to is a big help and I'd also suggest therapy if you can swing it. There's such a stigma attached to seeking therapy, but it can be a huge help in finding some balance.

  5. HI Danni, I am a Mother of two girls and its something we all experience, in silence. You are so brave ans so strong to have chosen this path. I wish you joy and send blessings.


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