As the morning light breaks, I find myself awake for hours before actually getting out of bed. The baby is nursing on and off, and I hold onto those precious moments, delaying the inevitable start of the day. Honestly, I feel exhausted. A part of me wishes I could just stay nestled under the covers forever.
Eventually, the routine begins. I pour cereal and coffee, making a valiant effort to keep the baby’s tiny hands from diving into the bowl. I try to savor the sweetness of the early hours, filled with coos and giggles, before the fussiness sets in. After a quick bathroom break, where I engage in peekaboo with a towel to keep the tears at bay, we both hop into the shower. If I don’t, she’ll scream as if the world is ending. Doubts flood my mind: Am I being too lenient? Or too harsh? Am I doing this right?
Once we’re out, I rush to dry my hair; I can’t stand how it looks when it’s wet. I question what that says about me. Am I too concerned with appearances? The baby is growing tired, so as I hurriedly dry off, I glance at my body, wishing some parts could return to what they once were. If I’m being honest, I wish more of me was where it used to be.
I lay her down and nurse her into her first nap. While she sleeps, I attempt to read articles or play games on my phone, trying to catch a moment of rest—though we all know that never works. Soon, she’s awake again, and we play together. It’s easy to bring a smile to her face, and I treasure those moments. In the meantime, I tackle household chores, picking up after my older child and my partner. I try to push away the feelings of resentment that bubble up, reminding myself I’m one of the luckiest people alive. But it simmers beneath the surface.
Then it’s time to pick up my older child from school. I eagerly anticipate her chatter; she’s bright, funny, and oh so sweet. Back home, we have snacks, and the asking begins. She wants to watch her iPad, and guilt washes over me. Am I allowing too much screen time? Is it stunting her development? The baby demands another nap, so I relent and let her indulge.
When the baby wakes, I scramble to entertain both kids. My older daughter loves to share her world with me, tugging at my heart and my body, and I do my utmost to engage, even as I struggle with my own weariness. What I truly yearn for is a quiet room all to myself, if I’m being honest.
As my partner returns home, our communication has dwindled to texts throughout the day, almost like we’re living in separate worlds. I want to meet his needs, but I feel lost. He offers me a chance to take a break, and sometimes I accept, often I don’t. I try to squeeze in a quick workout, hoping to reclaim some sense of self. Yet, I can see his patience wearing thin with the baby. I want to support him, but part of me wishes he could experience my struggles, if I’m being honest.
Dinner and bath time roll around. The baby is reluctant to settle down, clinging to me as if her life depends on it. Am I making her too reliant on me? Should I let her cry more? I feel lost in a sea of questions. Despite having done this before, I still grapple with uncertainty. As a mother, a wife, and a person, I feel like I’m too much of everything yet not enough of anything.
My partner texts me, asking if I can join him. I want to be there for him, for us, but often I don’t. It’s hard to tell if it’s because I can’t or simply won’t. Sometimes, his presence feels like another demand on my time, a reminder that my responsibilities are never done. I chastise myself for feeling this way. I know I’m lucky; so many people manage with less. The word “ungrateful” echoes in my mind.
Eventually, the baby unlatches long enough for me to catch a few moments of sleep before she stirs again. The night continues in this pattern: latch, unlatch, repeat. I know this phase won’t last forever, but it certainly feels like it. If I’m being honest, I don’t feel very fortunate, and that realization is the hardest truth to accept.
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In summary, being a mother is an overwhelming journey filled with joy, guilt, exhaustion, and confusion. It can be a struggle to balance the highs and lows, and it’s important to acknowledge these feelings without judgment.