Sunday, March 7, 2010


I am so tired. In so many ways this feels like a form of torture. My daughter is amazing I love everything about her. If I am complaining at all it is, again, about my isolation, not about my beautiful girl.

For the past fourteen weeks straight I have devoted my life to raising her. Just these few paragraphs have taken hours to write. Every word that I have written has been punctuated with the sound of my daughter crying. In fact I have only been able to write this by typing it out on my iPhone while pacing the floor. I do not know how long I will have to pace tonight but I am exhausted and just want to cry.

I think what I want is for her to be quiet for a few hours but she is a child her worries are honest. She needs something but I am too tired to figure out what it is.

I want to scream. I want a break and I need some help.

For nearly four months everything has revolved around being a good mother to her. I am exhausted. I wonder how much longer I can keep going, I am desperate for some time to myself, some space for me. Why is it that no body else seems to understand? Why do I feel that people reading this are going to think I am not coping. Why are we expected to cope with this alone? I am coping, I am doing well, I am just exhausted from it all. It takes more energy to raise a child than is produced by one exhausted mother.

I need to yell, or cry or something, just to let out the intense frustration that I feel. The thing that I imagine is confusing for people who are not mothers is that we do not spend our days feeling like this. Most of the time it is a joy and a wonder what I do. It is just some times, on some days, that the sense of exhaustion, lack of control and need for space feels over-whelming. Sometimes this is because bubby is wanting energy when I want rest, sometimes it is my emotions that unsettle her.

Am I any different from any other mother? I do not believe so. Am I depressed? Not at all. Any I exhausted? Absolutely. These are the times I need somebody to help.

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