Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘hitting rock bottom’

Since my last post, I find myself in a weird emotional state.  In general, I feel more me than I have in a long time.

So good, in fact, that I am considering attempting another mutter-kind-kur (mother-child cure – a 3-week long intense therapy/health retreat).

But of course, in looking at this, it brings back the memories of the last time I attempted a mutter-kind-kur.  Sofia was 7 months old, Henry only 3.  It was horrible.  I just couldn’t deal with being a mom all.the.time with no break whatsoever.

Which, of course, only accentuated my feeling of failure.

I had already failed in providing both of my children a safe haven in my womb (thank you preeclampsia).  Wasn’t taking care of them 24/7 supposed to be just, easy?  I mean, I had children to hold and love on every day.  There are many women who don’t.  Couldn’t I just be grateful for what I had?  and what is it, anyway, that I want as a mother?

See.

These are the feelings that are now going through my mind.  The memories of how bad it was and when I realized that I was going through it a second time.

With Henry, I tried so hard to be the career woman I had been.   I mean, come on,  I had worked full-time (plus some) AND gone to grad school.

A long standing conversation between Alex and I was that I thoroughly believed that you could in fact, have it all.  It was merely up to you to decide what that meant.  Then go for it.

Well, that is all the past now.

I couldn’t have it all.  I could not work, be a wife, and a mom, and find peace and harmony and flowers and songs and sunshine in it all.

Nope.

Instead, I felt this increasing pressure in my core being.  A suffocation of everything that I am, everything I once believed in was in question and doubt.

The only connection I felt to Henry was that of guilt.  Guilt because I didn’t feel any connection.  Sure, I breastfed him.  But he was a sick baby.  And he had a milk-protein allergy on top of reflux and colic.  Breastfeeding was the only thing I figured that he needed me for – everything else he could get from somewhere else.

And THAT made me feel worse!

One day, I picked Henry up in his hoity-toity daycare (specialized in babies and only took children up to the age of 18 months), came home and sat.

I don’t remember if he was asleep  in the carseat or not.

I don’t remember much of anything from that moment on.

I simply remember sitting.

and stopping.

Alex came home to find me unable to function.

I completely shut down.

And short of breastfeeding, I had no connection to Henry.

OTHER – than when he was sick.  There was this strange connection I have had with my son since he was born.  I know instinctively when something is wrong, when medical intervention is necessary.  I have heard about a mother’s instincts.  They are very real.

And now, as I try to decide whether to really do a 3-week kur, I am just not sure how ready I am for intense therapy and really looking at what I continue to avoid.

 

Read Full Post »