I was on the fence but everyone told me it would be easy and they just slot in to your routine- but I have brought an absolute bomb into my happy life.
I absolutely loved being a mother of one. Lots of
time for my own hobbies, lots of couple time, satisfying part time career for family business. Even when my daughter was a newborn, I loved every stage and never found any of it ‘hard’. Breastfed her past 2, co-slept, utterly entangled myself in her yet still had enough to pour into my own cup.
There is nothing to pour any more. I am a husk. I have more help than most but I hate it.
My husband is a very present parent who is at a place in his career which would have other men using ‘big job’ as an excuse to shirk. He does the morning nursery run, gets up with both children, jumps in frequently as part of his work day so I can shower or take 5, finishes at a sensible time. I have a cleaner every week as well, and my daughter goes to pre-school 2.5 days a week. I try and put myself into a good mood when I have both of them alone, but I utterly dread it.
I’m overstimulated by the pair of them. I can’t stand double the noise and double the mess. I hate that I’m fat again and I am absolutely gutted to see ‘my’ responsibilities at work delegated to other people and my CPD put on hold because I am looking after a new baby. I am not a fun mum any more because I spend my time stopping the toddler from hurting the 4 month old. I’m uptight about the cleaning because I want a calm home and to check out at the end of the day, not spend my only free hour before I collapse into bed, cleaning up (yes,
my husband does his bit too). Me and my daughter don’t do the fun things that we used to. Everything is more cumbersome with a little one there.
When she’s at nursery I fantasise about my old life where I would have gone to a barre class and worked from a lovely coffee shop- but then I remember I started again and I have another baby to look after. And I have to pick her up at 3. There is no time for fun and nourishment of myself, it’s just looking after other things. I clockwatch until he finishes work. It’s better when there are two of us, I’m much less down about everything.
I really wasn’t cut out to parent two children. I am too easily frustrated, overstimulated and fundamentally selfish.
I have tried to speak to my friends and they are just suggesting that I have postpartum depression but I generally don’t think I do. I am just finding it all tough and way too much. I relate much more to the shit, disinterested dads I read about on here. They don’t have depression. They just don’t enjoy parenting. I don’t enjoy parenting multiple kids.
I love both my children and feel bonded to them. I definitely don’t see my son as an interloper or a disruptor. I’m not mad at him. I enjoy both my children individually and feel joy when it’s 1:1. I don’t think I am depressed. I’m just not cut out to juggle 2 and perpetually feel hard done by. I’m worried about my marriage because my husband knows how miserable I am but he physically can’t do any more.
Another thing people tell me (well meaningly) is that it will all be worth it and they’ll play together eventually and as much as I hope that this is case- I know from my own experiences and that of others that this is not certain either. I can’t really use the thought of this ‘eventually’ happening as my Hail Mary because hey, it might never happen. And then where will I be.
I am just so sad. I have two lovely children and a lovely husband and all I want to do is run away. I feel so ungrateful and such a failure.