Dark and Twisty

Isn’t it both lovely and strange, when we can find a home away from home? The feelings of security, peace, and comfort that it brings allow us to feel a little happier, even though we aren’t home with our loved ones.

What happens when we can’t get out of our house to find that “home”? What if I have no safe place to turn? What if I don’t feel at home, even laying here – in my own bed, under my own roof, next to my own sleeping husband and baby?

My husband used to provide that “home-y” feeling; he could warm me up and make me smile no matter how cold and crude the day had been to me. But lately, something has changed. What was it? What shifted?

Oh, THAT’S RIGHT. I grew an entire human being and let him watch me push her out of my vagina!

I sarcastically wonder to myself, “Gee, how could something so massive change our lives?”

Now, my “home-away-from-home” is actually in my house. In the bathroom. Alone.

I’m fairly sure that it is where all of my posts have been written so far, and that probably will not change any time soon. Uninterrupted solitude is the only safe haven that I have now, the only one that I can claim solely as my own.

It is where I come when my head is hot with rage and anxiety, the cold tile under my feet keeps me cool and grounded. My heart is still alone here, however. I do not know how to have difficult conversations in a healthy way, I was only ever shown bad examples. And I don’t want to re-enact those. I care too much about our marriage, and too much about our daughter, to create a toxic environment of fighting… but I am also done asking nicely for the things that I need.

So, if I am done asking nice, but I don’t want to be mean, I’m stuck here – in silent frustration – in the bathroom.

More and more often, I’m seeing studies come out about the negative effects of screen time for our kids. This is about my personal war with the screen- and my husband!

I bring up the topic yet again, as I come home to a familiar scene: baby in front of the TV (which I know has been on for hours), and husband on his phone. I just heard another podcast today about how babies under 18 months should have NO SCREENTIME! I’m overwhelmed as I think about how to incorporate this rule into our life, the life that we have built around screens.

I speak with my husband, let him know the detriments- yet again. He sits silent, I can tell that he doesn’t agree and is feeling frustrated. I asked him to share his thoughts… “There are pros to watching programs to help her learn.” “She doesn’t always pay attention to it!” “I still play with her while it’s on.”

All of these statements are true. Pros? Sure, there are so many high-quality children’s learning programs out there… just not for her age, she isn’t old enough to learn from it yet. And no, she doesn’t always pay attention to it, but she is learning bad habits that I’d rather not have to break later. She sees us in front of screens all day, how will I ever convince her that it’s normal to go outside and be active and play? But then, my husband makes the argument that hit me the hardest. “Well my video games are how I relax, so it just feels like I’m having to give everything up.”

Give. Everything. Up.

EVERYTHING???

Bitch, I gave up EVERYTHING. I gave up my body for 9 months. I gave up caffeine. I gave up sleep, and alcohol, and almost every meal regurgitated itself out of my body. I lost 35 pounds from morning sickness. I forfeited hours at work to stay home and be still enough just to keep down enough water to hydrate our fetus. I missed out on an extra week of maternity leave going towards time with baby because I had contractions for a full week before her birth.

Bitch, I still give up a lot. I limit my caffeine and alcohol so that baby girl isn’t affected. I feed her from my actual body in the middle of the night. I don’t use my phone, or watch TV, or eat, or even look around the room while I breastfeed- because it distracts her and she won’t eat very well. I eat my dinners cold so that she can eat hers first. I take pills and vitamins and supplements to make sure that I’m healthy enough and my milk is nutritious enough for her.

Also, bitch. I AM EVERYTHING. I’m supposed to be the light and love of your life, but video games are everything? Not even ALL video games, just the ones in our daughter’s waking hours! Just the ones before 7:00 pm! You don’t get off of work until 5:30! An hour and a half of video games is everything??? I don’t think so. You’re very dreamy, but I. AM. THE. SUN.

My biggest qualm: SHE IS EVERYTHING. Our daughter is our entire world, she made us so much more than we ever were before.

I worked so hard to grow her, keep her safe, and bring her into this world healthy. Of course I’m going to do everything that I can to keep her mind, body, and soul as healthy and happy as possible.

This weekend, I enjoyed the pleasure of spending five hours with my mom on Saturday. It was her birthday gift to me, to take me and the baby out to lunch and shopping.

We met for lunch around 12:00 pm, at which time my husband also decided to meet a friend for lunch at their favorite place. They used to be coworkers, and at that point would visit this restaurant once a week together, then spend a few hours afterwards playing video games together.

Lunch with my mom and baby was absolutely perfect, as was the shopping that followed. I’ve had some difficulties adjusting to my postpartum body, so I was very pleasantly surprised with how many new articles of clothing I found. In fact, we spent far longer than I had anticipated at the mall. We were there until almost 6:00 pm! (I also get stressed after having the baby out for very long, so I don’t plan on being out for more than about 3 hours at a time.) Baby girl was getting tired and close to bedtime, so we made our journey home.

Once we arrived, her dad paused his video game so that I could feed her in silence and darkness, as is our bedtime routine. He then traipsed downstairs into our home-office, and restarted his game there instead. I fed our sweet girl, and put her to bed. By the time I got her settled back down in her crib, it was around 8:00 pm. I sat on the couch and turned on season 3 of Netflix’s “Sabrina,” which I had yet to start. Still no word from the husband.

As I watched and surpassed the second, then third, episode, I began texting my man to try to initiate some adult time since the baby was asleep and he didn’t seem too tired either. Vague, uncommitted responses showed me that he wasn’t in the mood, and I turned my attention back to the show. No harm, no foul.

I found out this morning that he had stayed up gaming until almost 2:00 am. Again, it’s the weekend and he still got up with the babe this morning so that I could have my “Sunday sleep-in,” so I didn’t care at all.

My father came over for a visit and to help us out with hanging some decor, and we chatted with him until 5:00 pm. After he headed home, the husband made us a wonderful pasta dinner that we both love. By the time it was finished, our baby was ready for bed due to a lack of naps today. So, we ate in darkness and silence as I fed her in preparation for an early bedtime. He watched a quiet show on his phone, and I struggled to eat my dinner and breastfeed, dropping a ridiculous amount of marinara on my sweatshirt before giving up on dinner until the baby was down.

My dinner was getting colder and my daughter was fast asleep when my husband caught onto my frustration/hanger. He agreed to put her in her crib so that I could complete my meal. He does so, and then let me know that he was heading down to the office to play games again tonight. It was only 6:30, and I had been anticipating some time together instead.

As the hours ticked by, and he remained virtual worlds away, my frustration grew as I came to a realization: I never get a full parental break.

When I was away with baby girl yesterday, my husband had 14 uninterrupted hours where he literally could have forgotten that he was a father, and had no adverse effects. Yet I, as a breastfeeding mother, will not have that opportunity anytime in my near future. Even if I were away from my daughter for 14 hours. I would need to pump every 2-3 hours in order to maintain her food supply. There would have needed to be advance preparation to ensure that she would have enough to remain fed during my absence. Most likely, I’d have some hiccups upon returning her to breast after being on a bottle for so long.

As I made and considered my realization, the frustration only grew. Now, by no means do I want to forget that I am a mother. But it is a stressful role that takes a constant toll. It is a position that I cannot resign or clock-out from. I am always on the clock, and I’m envious of my coworker that isn’t. This coworker, sweet husband of mine, gets the freedom to lose track of time in his wonderous make-believe worlds, and I… don’t.

Here is the part where you may expect my wisdom and insight, or a sudden curve into a happier ending. But that is not what this blog and these posts are about. For herein lies the soul that is dark and twisty.

While I am here, I am not the woman you know. I may not be one that you can love. I created this blog because I need somewhere to share the parts that do not feel loved, not even by me.

I am a new mom with a breathtakingly beautiful, unequivocally sweet baby girl. I’m a coworker that smiles and greets you warmly, every single morning. The one who jumps and laughs and cheers with you when you meet your goals. I am a wife with a hot passion for my husband, a love that is irreverent and bold and unconditional. I’m the friend that always has the wittiest and quickest comeback, with a quirky type of humor that leaves you laughing – but with questions, too.

However, I am more than the sum of these parts, for I also have another edge. One that does not see sunlight each day. It’s a bit crooked, it wavers uncertainly, and it is not pretty. This side of me is what one might call, “dark and twisty.” This version of myself is not afraid of the end, she lives there.

Welcome, to the abyss. Where you can stare at me, as raw and as honest and as brave as I have ever been. And I will look back at you, and see you. Because you have seen me like nobody else can. Thank you.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton