I’m ashamed to admit today I, albeit fleetingly, actually hated my baby. My beautiful blonde baby, with her big blue eyes and cheeky laugh. My youngest bundle of joy – the one who does the complete opposite to all the text books, the one who slept like a dream until she was 6 months old…
It was about 4am… she was screaming and writhing in her cot (again as first wake up was around 11), I was desperately pacing the room to calm her down / shove milk down her neck… when I just snapped. I roughly put her in the cot and left her to cry herself to sleep.
And just hated myself for it. And her even more.
Hated her cries and screams, the leg banging and the fact the noise goes straight through me.
Hated the fact that this has been going on for weeks.
Hated the fact I have a particularly busy week at work and need to be able to use my brain.
Hated the fact that this past week I have had about 10 hours sleep in about 3 days.
Hated the stair gate that has been there for over a year, and yet still managed to stub my toe on and fall down the last step in my haste to get yet more milk.
And then when the house woke up 2 hours later, hated the fact I had to get up, do mum things, get myself ready for work all the while this is going on guess who is wailing constantly…
So, with no chance to reset the ‘hate’… it escalates… and end with me yelling like a banshee (why beat them, join them)…
So come drop off, I’m in tears for feeling so much hate towards my little baby who can’t tell me why she is crying or how to fix it…and then hating myself for feeling like that in the first place. Shame on you!
All I can say, is thank you mum. Who recognised I needed to sleep after chucking my baby at her through angry tears. Who hugged me and sent me home to go to bed. Who, no questions asked, is doing scream duty tonight so I can go to bed for a full 7 hours.
Being superwoman sucks sometimes, even she needs her mum x