I found out today someone in my family is 12 weeks pregnant. I should have been congratulating her but instead I whispered to my partner – why does she get to be pregnant and not me? I was bubbling up inside with jealousy and yes, anger. It doesn’t seem fair to me.
Why is she so special? It didn’t occur to me I was being nasty or downright bitchy. Till a short while ago as I rocked my poorly son. Doing that, holding my two year old sparked something in me and now im horrified with myself.
I had my first child young, and not long out of a psychiatric hospital. I had only my partner for support and no clue what the hell I was doing. My midwife told me to think of motherhood as a job, you have some skills walking into it, but the rest you learn as you go. The mother bit came naturally. The holding, comforting, loving. The parenting bit where I had to figure out why he was screaming for the 43rd time that night was harder, much harder and frustrating.
Everyone assumed I would crumble, nobody had faith in me to be a good mom and put me down at every given chance. But I didn’t fail I wanted my baby to have a good mom. Not the best, but a good mom was all I dared aim for.
I Need A Baby To Prove Im A Good Mum; Secret Confession
As time passed I had three more children. The comments were still made in the background but after four children I wasn’t listening quite so much. I was more confident and happier left to my own devices with my children. Then I got pregnant and lost twins at 12 weeks. My world crumbled. I went through the whole thing alone because my partners family wouldn’t help me. He had to stay with our kids while I had them removed under anaesthetic. The worst week of my life. After they died I was lost. I think something in me died with them and its sparked off something much darker and far worse.
It sparked off the realisation that my body killed my babies
I killed my own flesh and blood
I couldn’t bear it and closed myself off to everyone
A few months down the line still feeling the same I fell pregnant. This time it was accidental. I managed to hold on to that baby despite his twin dying and I carried him to 38 weeks healthy. From the moment I saw the positive lines on the test that little boy has been my world. He’s different to my other children. I love all my children to the very core of my heart without question, I would give my life for there’s in a heartbeat without hesitation or question, but my youngest, he’s my savior. He saved me from myself.
All my energy was taken up with him to the point that losing my twins didn’t seem real any more It hurt but not as much. I had a new baby to love. When he was a year old I miscarried again. Again twins. There were complications and I was devastated Again my body had failed me. Again people judged me. Why was I pregnant? I should be sterilised. I felt so low. So down I was grounded and couldn’t get up.
I struggled to be a mom and my kids all suffered
I was angry at myself and shouted at them. I made them cry because they were confused, I became convinced it was because I needed them too much. They died because I needed them. I thought in my partners eyes I was the stupid thing who killed his children again despite those words never leaving his lips I could hear them in my head.
I truly do love my children, but I long to be a mom again. Its a physical pulling in me like a chord drawing me in
Every month I hope, every month im disappointed and I cant bear it. I buy tests religiously and think about prams and clothes.
Every month my period comes and its like someone winding me. I cry, I hate myself. I chase the dream. Today it was confirmed my dream is all it will ever be. Because of the complications having a child and assuming I could carry it to term would most likely kill or the child. Or both.
Im so selfish, all I could think about was I was never going to be a mom again. The first smiles, the first solids all those magical moments all gone. It didn’t occur to me that I have five children who need me. Its just been me, how it affects me!
Tonight I told three trusted friends, who understood and supported me. They put down a different way to look at things but then my son started crying. I was annoyed at being disturbed then, I was desperate to talk and didn’t want to deal with him. Walking into the bedroom he was crying and I picked him up. He hugged me and nuzzled my neck saying mumma mumma sorry. My heart broke. My two year old was apologising for needing me?
This was a new pain
He is still so much like a baby, yet he knew I was mad and said sorry to me. Breaking down I laid on my bed with him, hugging him, whispering the Mr Tumbles song to him and stroking his hair. I love him so dam much it hurts. After a few minutes he was calm and was running his tiny little fingers up my arm to tickle me and I was laughing. He began to recite the alphabet and random words. Ive been trying to teach him names and tonight he showed me everyone’s names. My name first mumma, then daddy, then his brothers names, then his sisters and lastly our dogs name. And he was so proud and so was I.
While he was doing this I thought about my children, how yes iv had some bad stuff happen but iv had good stuff too and they are all asleep in their beds.
I realised holding my boy I want to feel like a good mom and I want peoples comments to be that im a good mum, I crave it. I need it almost like some self appointed test I have set. But of course nobody does. Nobody sees me daily. They don’t see how I am with my kids, the love we have. So I never get those comments. I go to bed like a failure.
I don’t know how to break this cycle now of not needing a baby to prove im a good mom. Of searching for any negatives I can find on myself to stop others de- railing me. I yearn to be pregnant, to buy baby clothes to love that baby and be the best mom ever. But its a impossible dream and one I have to give up before it eats away at me more. Being a mom to the children I have is more important than being a mom to children I cant have. Now I just have to find a way to stop hurting and hoping and hunting for what I cant have.
This inspirational post was written anonymously by a mom who is a member of my Facebook mums group. I have full permission to share her story. If you can relate to this post and would like to share your own anonymous post please contact me.
You can read many more Inspirational Stories of hope and courage on the blog.
You could help us share the blogs love to helping others by sharing via the social sharing buttons bellow.
