Well, my baby daughter is 12 weeks old on Saturday, and I just feel like I am not coping at all. It is like treading water all day, just trying to keep afloat, and to be honest I wouldn't even manage that if not for the way my poor, much maligned husband is keeping things going for me. And I feel by now it should be getting better - that I should at least be capable of managing the bare essentials (feeding the children and washing them every now and then) but I just can't get it all together. My poor son hasn't had a bath in Gd only knows how long, I have a pile of dirty nappies in the nursery that the fairies haven't yet magicked into the nappy bucket and the whole place is a messy smell heap of sht. (Not literally).
I don't like feeding the baby - it is just SO boring and still mildly uncomfortable. In fact the baby is boring (as all babies are) and cries too much. I love her madly and deeply - from the moment I first saw her - which is a surprise because it took a LONG time (years ) to feel this way about my son - but I can't help looking at her and thinking "What have I DONE???" My life was organised and fun - I was home educating my son, we were having a real blast and were really close, I had plenty of time to spend doing the things I enjoyed - and now my son is at school cos I couldn't cope with him whilst I was pregnant - I felt so ill - and everything is so boring and I don't have time to do the things that MUST be done, let alone the things I enjoy. Why did I do this to myself?
I have this paranoia that if I let anyone else look after the baby at all then something dreadful will happen (her falling down the stairs or her pram being run over by a car are "favourite" nightmare thoughts). Went to watch Lord of the RIngs just before Christmas, but spent the whole film wishing I was at home and worrying.
Not only that, but my darling husband informed me a couple of days ago that when our son was born we had sex when he was 3 months old. He has mentined sex several times since then - I rather think he thinks he has been patient enough, and he thinks sooner would be better than later.... I really don't want to. I spend a lot of time thinking how peaceful and restful it would be to be dead - I am NOT in a place where I want to think about sex. In fact, although ormally I quite enjoy it, right now the thought makes me feel a little sick and makes my skin crawl. I don't know how to tell him this though - he would take it personally, and it isn't personal - it is just that I am not ready yet.
I just feel crap, and I am not coping anything like as well as I thought I would. Which makes me feel crapper. And I am neglecting just about everything (except the baby, who won't let me neglect her). I feel so guilty about it all.