I feel like motherhood has been a constant, unending struggle. Not really the actual act of mothering: the nursing, cooing, loving, protecting part has come pretty naturally. It's more of an internal struggle against external forces that I am at war with.
I feel like every day is a challenge to preserving my sense of self and establishing my identity as a mother. I'm fighting to convince those around me that I know what I'm doing because maybe if they believe in me, I'll start to. I'm struggling to be thought of as a mother rather than someone who got knocked up and am now dealing with the consequences.
Furthermore I'm struggling not to fade away. My father doesn't kiss me on the forehead when he leaves anymore. He doesn't even say goodbye, actually. He tickles my son, kisses the dog, and leaves. My social life consists of Dora the Explorer, pulling my son away from the edge of the stairs, and being home from 6 o'clock on because I'm the only one that understands and can effectively pull off his routine without upsetting him. If I do venture out, I'm filled with anxiety about if my son's delicate routine is in danger of being broken because his routine is his security blanket. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But where does that leave me?
I haven't waxed my eyebrows in 6 months because somehow I cannot get out of the house for the 5 minute, $8 procedure. I can't sleep through the night because when I wake, I hold my breath while listening to the static on the baby monitor waiting for my son to wake up. I can't remember to drink enough water, or take all my pills. My therapist keeps reiterating that I need to hold onto the things for me so that I don't completely lose myself, but I don't think I know how to do that anymore.
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