This Mom Guilt Thing Is A Real Asshole
For all of you who are parents to more than one child, do you remember what it was like to have to say “goodbye” to your only child when your second was about to arrive? How did it change your relationship with your oldest? How do you cope with being two places or everywhere at the same time?
I came across a series of photos online yesterday of moms last moments alone with their firstborns shortly before they birthed their second baby. I remember that moment so vividly, and I wish so badly that I had a birth photographer to capture it for me.
I remember that I had been in labour for 22 hours already and awake since the day before. I remember Husband’s mum was there to take care of her while we left to bring our Buddy Earthside And I remember her standing in her little sundress on the steps and looking at her with the saddest heart ever.
It wasn’t like I wouldn’t see her the next day. It wasn’t like we were going away for a long time or not coming back. But we kind of were.
I had to say goodbye to who she was at that moment and embrace a new role for her. She was no longer going to be my whole world, she was only going to be a part of it. And I felt like how can I do this to her? How can I takeaway her job of being the single most important thing in my life and make her share it? I felt terrible and sad and selfish for leaving.
In that moment I had to mourn my only child and replace her with a big sister, and as dumb as that sounds it broke my heart into a million pieces.
And of course Buddy was and still is the clingiest, snuggliest, most sensitive little guy ever and is in constant demand of my attention. He’s almost three and still needs his Mommy fiercely. So I wonder how my Twee Destroyer of Hearts feels about that.
I wonder if she remembers the almost two years we had alone together or if she just accepts what is. I wonder if I sometimes ignore her needs because her brother is younger and his needs are more immediate and usually a lot louder. I wonder if she feels like I love her less because she has a little brother.
Which of course I don’t. I just feel like I am always out of time, you know? Like by the time I am done work and dinner and laundry and tending to all the things that need tending, that I have so little time left at the end of the day to just hang out with her and listen to what she wants to tell me.
I feel like the end of everyday is crammed into those final moments on the steps before I left for the hospital. Like I want nothing more than just to sit there with her but there is always something pulling me away. And I worry that she thinks I don’t care enough.
I have a lot of guilt lately. I feel like I am never enough. To anyone, but especially my babies, and even more especially to her.
The mom guilt is brutal lately, Bitches. How do you pick yourself up?