One of the blogs I read daily is The Daddy Files. There is a link in my blog roll. One of his recent posts was on the dark places in the mind. You know, the thoughts you have that you don't want others to know about. I don't write about those places often because things with Evan are going so well lately. He's long reached the age where he is not the cause of my sleep deprivation. He's been an easy child for the most part. That could all change soon since puberty is on the way. But I feel challenged by Daddy Files to tell at least one dark story.
When Evan was born, I was basically a single parent. I know, I was married. At least I had 2 incomes. But I was working full time, doing all the cooking and cleaning, taking care of Evan. I had NO help. Yes, I know. I should have demanded help. First, I don't like to ask for help - makes me feel weak. Second, every time I did I was denied so I gave up. I did have help from my MIL on the weekends, but she worked full time, too. I hated to ask too often. And my mom was gone every weekend. Her parents were sick so she drove 2 hrs every Friday to relieve the sitters, cooked and cleaned all weekend, drove 2 hrs back and worked a full time job.
But my dear husband just couldn't be bothered. Couldn't be bothered during the week - he's an aircraft mechanic. If he doesn't get enough sleep, people could die. I heard that shit so many times. Couldn't be bothered on the weekends because he needed to relax. Everywhere I went, Evan went with me. I never had a second to myself.
Then I had my moment. The night that made it clear to me that I was all Evan had. And he was all I had. I had had a bad day at work. I was tired. I didn't feel good physically. Of course, Mike went to bed and I was left to deal with getting Evan in bed. He was about 3 months old. I put him down and he slept for about 30 minutes. Then the crying started. Then I really started feeling sick. And he wouldn't stop crying. Then my back started hurting. And he wouldn't stop crying. And then I started throwing up. And he wouldn't stop crying. So at 3AM I asked for help. Begged. The help I got? He held Evan for about 5 minutes while I was throwing up and then handed him back to me. He had to get some sleep. By this time I knew what was wrong with me - a kidney stone. And he wouldn't stop crying. At that moment, I held my precious baby in my arms and shook. I shook so hard, that later I was worried if I had 'shaken' him. Then I started wondering what kind of mom I was going to be if I couldn't hold it together just because I was sick. And do I really WANT to be a mom? And what kind of mom wonders if she WANTS to be a mom? That opened up a nice little self-pity spiral that I rode for a few hours. But by dawn I realized that I could handle this gig. I had to. Because I was all Evan had. And he was all I had.
Over the years, it has gotten better. For the most part, he has been an easy child. Not always, but for the most part. And Mike now actually participates when I remind him that he needs to. After all, Evan is a lot of fun now that he doesn't cry at night or need a diaper change.