I’m exhausted
So my husband told me tonight that I’ve changed and that he no longer feels desired by me because I don’t make comments towards him the way I used to and I don’t respond the same when he makes comments towards me and that makes me feel like a shitty fucking wife.
Because I do desire him and what he doesn’t seem to understand is that I’m all fucking touched out.
I had to watch my body change over 8 months. I stretched, I bled, I threw up. I had to stop doing things I loved, I was sick and exhausted all the time. Then I was drugged and had seven layers of flesh, muscle, nerves and organs cut open to have our son. Then I was stitched closed seven different times. I hurt, I couldn’t move like normal, I was exhausted and felt gross.
Lucas loves to be held. And I love to hold him. But fuck recently it feels like I’m doing the most. Which is fine, I’m his mom, but I can only be in so many places and pulled in so many directions at one time.
I get peed on. I get pooped on. I get spit up on and slept on and my hair pulled all while trying to hold and sooth and change my clothes and shower and be put together when I want to be anything but.
I keep track of where we’re going, what we’re doing, when the baby eats or sleeps, when his bottles get washed or the laundry was done or the snakes were fed. Even when my husband does have him, I get asked questions. Where’s this? Where’s that? Did you move this thing? And it’s always in the same spot if he just took the two seconds to look. I can never seem to have five minutes to myself.
I can make a bottle, hold the baby, let out the dog, and play a card game without even blinking. I can shower and rock his swing, and wash my hair all while my mind is blank.
It’s gotten to the point where I am hearing cries that aren’t there.
I cried for the first time since I had Lucas tonight. And it’s not his fault, that will never be something he understands. But sometimes I can’t tell when he’s joking versus when he’s serious and sometimes I just want to be held and told that shit is going to be okay and things will start to feel somewhat normal again.
I’m not resentful. At all. He’s great and when I was in the hospital and even just getting home, he was amazing. But my feelings were hurt. I feel like I’m not listened to, I’m not seen, and I’m just fucking exhausted.
Regret
I’m 23 years old, a mom to one amazing autistic little boy, and I’m still living with my mom and grandma. I work full-time, and I was able to get my own car last October. I know there are people who have it harder than I do, and I’m grateful for what I have. My circumstances aren’t the worst; they’re just not enough for the life I want to live.
I love my son with everything I have, but if I’m being honest, I don’t enjoy being a mother. That’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to admit because people automatically assume that means I don’t love my child, and that’s not true. I love him more than anything. His laugh is my favorite sound, and seeing him smile makes my whole day. He’s the cutest little boy, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
What I struggle with is everything that came with becoming a mom before I was ready.
I had to drop out of school because of pregnancy complications. I lost the life I had planned. I miss the freedom I had before. I miss being able to be selfish sometimes. I wasn’t financially, mentally, or physically prepared to become a parent. I wasn’t prepared to still be living at home or to be tied to someone I knew wasn’t right for me.
The hardest part is that I originally wanted to terminate my pregnancy. We even made an appointment. At the time, my car had broken down, I had lost my job because of renovations, and I knew I wasn’t ready. His dad had no car and no stable job. Looking back, I ignored a lot of red flags until it was too late. Then he told my mom I was pregnant while I was ignoring him, and I felt like the choice was taken away from me. I wasn’t ready to raise a child, and I definitely wasn’t ready to coparent with someone I resent.
Today, I still carry that resentment. My son’s dad watches him while I work because he works from home, and I’m grateful our son has a parent available during the day. But financially, I don’t feel supported. Last month he gave me $150, and it wasn’t even for our son. Sometimes it feels like money only comes up when he thinks it’ll make me want to get back together, and that’s never going to happen.
My family helps, especially my mom, and I’m thankful for her. But I hate feeling like I have to pay everyone else every time I need help with childcare. Sometimes I feel like I have friends, but no real friends. I feel alone more often than I’d like to admit.
I’m not happy, but I’m not exactly sad either. I’m just existing. Trying to make it through each day while hoping that one day I’ll feel like I’m actually living instead of just surviving.
More than anything, I wish my son could have the best version of me. I wish I could give him a mom who’s less stressed, less overwhelmed, and closer to the person she dreamed of becoming.
I’m still trying to find that version of myself. Not just for him, but for me too.
