Thank you to all for your thoughtful responses, they really are much appreciated.
Well, I cancelled the Drs appointment for the reasons that NanaNina pointed out, but have had an initial talk to a psychotherapist on the telephone who said he has never dealt with this issue before but who was willing to meet up for an hour gratis to try and see whether he thought he could help.
Appointment booked in for next Friday morning. Very nerve wracking!
He asked me to email him BRIEFLY (his capitals not mine!!) with possible reasons so let me write it out here and I will copy it over. I am not that good with being brief to be honest, so will have to reign myself in.
Family background:
one of two children, my brother and I had a terrible relationship which we made efforts to reconcile when I was 31 (I am now 36). The efforts were rather shortlived as he bullied me terribly and left me with lots of mental scars. This bad relationship left me not considering the possibility of having children of my own as I assumed childhood was a miserable state to be in and did not want to inflict it on others.
We fought constantly and I have always had a fear that if I had my own children they would hate each other.
Pre-pregnancy:
I met my husband and we talked openly about whether or not to have children, it was certainly not a given and the way I felt was really that I probably would be ready for children 'one day' but by the time that came I would be too old to actually have them - I definitely did not feel in any way ready to have children but we decided to make that leap together. We only FINALLY made this decision one week before I found out I was (accidentally) pregnant. A bit more time for the decision to sink in properly would have helped.
I did not enjoy any aspect of pregnancy, in the later stages I got SPD and could hardly move around the house and I felt disabled and resented that feeling. Even when I was pregnant I could not look at other women who were pregnant or had children. I was in denial!
I went into labour 3-4 weeks early ( I should know that of course but like so many things I have not hung onto details) and all I remember about most of the early labour was saying again and again "I'm not ready".
I had a homebirth and was adamant that I would not go into hospital - I was rather focussed on this. 12 hours labour and he popped out he didn't have a feed and I went straight into a bath and just lay their feeling totally detached.
Here is a part that is very weird to anyone who knows anything about babies, but all I can say in my rather weak defense is that I had never even held a baby before this and I didn't have a clue what to do. Nobody mentioned to me that I had to wake him up to feed him (he was only 6lb) and we just thought he was being a 'good' baby by sleeping through. The midwife came back in the morning and he was immediately taken into SCBU for not being warm enough and not eating.
I was shellshocked, and to be there in hospital was devastating to me just the first nail in the coffin for me feeling like a terrible mother. A dr came to see me and said he wanted to give antibiotics incase of something or other and I didn't want to but I phoned my husband who basically said we should as 'what if....' so against my instinct and wishes they did it. Another nail.
They wanted to take spinal fluid to check for menangitis which again I thought was too intrusive but what could I do?
They advised me not to watch but I said I was fine, and I watched them try and fail twice putting a needle into his spine, most mothers would be in tears but I was just watching like a stone.
We spent a week in SCBU with him not being able to breastfeed and me being advised to give him formula. I refused as being able to breastfeed was the only consideration for me - that turned into a millstone and I should have let it go, but it seemed to me that the only thing I could uniquely do was to feed him and if I couldn't do that I really was a total failure.
I will never forget a Dr saying to me "I don't know what is wrong with him but he isn't normal". I think in some way that just sunk into my deeper being and has never gone. What an idiotic thing to say to a new parent eh?
When he came home it was clear that he was unhappy ALL the time, it wasn't until much later on that I realised that not all babies cry so much!
The health visitor came round and asked me "why is he crying?" I just thought "shit, I don't know, why don't I know". Another nail.
I struggled with breastfeeding so much, because of the antibiotics he had been given he got thrush in his mouth which was passed to me and then not diagnosed properly. I got that twice. I had mastitis twice. The pain was so intense, I remember being in tears just trying to get dressed as the cloth against my nipples was unbearable. I focussed on breastfeeding to an unhealthy extent and we never managed to get it right. Each and every feed was an ordeal in some way and after 6 horrible months I finally gave up.
Apart from the feeding he cried about 80% of the time he was awake. A HV referred us through to a pediatrician as "something is wrong with him" but nothing was wrong physically and they said that some babies are just 'difficult'.
I remember so clearly being up with him one night and just thinking "who the hell is this monster, he has nothing to do with me". As he got older he was referred through to a child development centre who told us basically that the scope of 'normal' is really quite big and although he was a difficult child he was, from a medical point of view, 'normal'. She said it might improve when he went to school.. he was 18months old then and it seemed like a lifetime away.
I would describe him as a fundementally unhappy creature - he came out crying, this turned into monumental tantrumming and with each new 'phase' comes fresh horrors. He is unremittingly unpleasant company and brings no joy to me at all.
His brother was born 14months later and I immediately felt 'the rush' when he was born, he was popped onto me and immediately fed. I obviously have times with him when things are difficult but I love him.
My relationship with number one is like a lovers relationship that has gone bad and everything they do just pisses you off. Everything number two does is cute and endearing, everything number one does is annoying and irritating.
I went to see a Dr at some point after number two was born and was diagnosed with PND and went onto prozaac for about 8months which seemed to lift me out of the depths I was in. I don't even know anymore whether I was depressed or am depressed, I just know I have felt frequently that I am losing my grip on handling life.
The two boys had a terrible relationship to start with (but bear in mind that number one could not form relationsips with other children, screaming when they came near him). I remember quite clearly that he did not even touch him for nearly 18months. Now, both of them talk and they will play but number one is SO negative and always putting number two down and trying to bully him. It just brings back horrible memories from my own childhood and my husband is quite sure that I am treating number one as if he were my brother.
I relish time away from him.
I have read probably 20 parenting books because I am so desperate to make it work, but within 5mins of being in his company I feel like throttling him. He makes me SO angry, I have never experienced the kind of anger I feel towards him. I honestly don't know how I haven't hurt him. I have slammed doors, punched walls, screamed very loudly and have handled him roughly at times.
He started school in September and I just love that fact that he is somewhere else for 6 hours.
I don't even like his name. My husband chose it and I conceded to please him, but it never just slips off my tongue and I don't even like saying it anymore.
This has all been rather disjointed and waffly, but I have never tried to write any of it down before.
I remember when he was about 6months old or so going into a bookshop and scouring the baby section for a book entitled "I hate my baby" I couldn't work out why amongst all these books there was nothing for people who felt like me. It was a slow discovery that nobdy felt like me. It is heartbreaking to be so very alone.