Oh man, it’s been a while since I posted. Do you know why? Because I procrastinate. Because I have a toddler. I am a mum. Who desperately needs her mum 😦 It’s okay I can do it.
I can’t.
My daughter is almost 19 months now. It’s been 19 months of “Wtf am I doing?” 18 months of constant anxiety about whether I’m making the right choices as a mum. Whether I’m doing the right thing for her. Sometimes I look at the mirror, and I’m unsure who this person is. When did the white hair start to grow so much? When are the stretch marks going to go? When am I going to lose all the baby weight?
Your mind is constantly asking questions, and there’s no answer.
When am I going to go cook? When the baby sleeps. When am I going to clean? When the baby sleeps. When am I going to sleep? When the baby sleeps. And you know what the annoying thing is? You get shamed for wanting “me” time.
I want my “me” time not to do the house chores, and not to work. I want my “me” time to talk to, nobody. I want my “me” time to do nothing. I want my “me” time to paint my nails and to watch a silly rom-com while they dry. You get laughed at and ridiculed for asking for this. “You’re a mum now, you don’t need me time. Your job now is taking care of your baby and your house 24/7”
Nobody shames the dad for hanging out with friends, or eating out, or coming home to a clean house or a warm lunch, but you get shamed cause you didn’t clean, you get shamed cause you were too lazy to cook.
But, you’re not lazy. You’re burned out.
Now throughout my pregnancy, my anxiety levels were up the roof. And thanks to Covid, it was sky-high. My brain was constantly going through circles about every little thing. With your family overseas and limited social interaction, it makes things even worse. You don’t want to worry your family who are not with you, and you don’t want to make them feel helpless, so you bottle up. All the fun activities that you were looking forward to doing, are now canceled. The baby shower became a meeting on Zoom, the friends meeting baby had to be to the minimum. My joy with my first baby was never 100% complete.
Then there was the never-ending loop of being stuck in a house with a baby: You wake up, feed the baby, make breakfast, entertain the baby, make lunch, feed yourself and the baby, clean the toys up, sleep, repeat. I remember this one time, my husband and daughter slept at 10 pm, and I stayed awake until 2 am just because I can. I put on a facemask, I put on a funny movie, I had some unhealthy tasty snacks. And it felt amazing. Did I regret it when the baby was crying at 6 am? Absolutely I did, but it was worth it.
I really don’t have an answer for this. Yes, I could be all like: Leave the baby for a couple of hours with the dad, and you go hang out, go grab some coffee with friends, go do your thing. It’s easier said than done. I’ve been planning to have a girl’s night out for – not exaggerating – 3 months! You want to juggle and tetrix the shit out of the following:
- Cleaning
- Doing the dishes
- Putting the baby to bed
- Finishing your work
- Folding the sky-high laundry
- Taking a shower
- Getting dressed and feeling pretty.
And this feels like such a long list, so you cancel the plans, you finish one of the tasks you were meant to finish, you get burnt out. You want to hang out. You feel like those two hours would be spent doing some of these things. You cancel those plans. You feel burnt out. Rinse and repeat.
The thing I keep telling myself is: Ask. For. Help. It’s okay, just do it. Just ask your husband, your friend, your neighbor. It’s okay that you’re exhausted and it’s okay to ask for help. I need to be more okay to speak up and ask for help, and accept if that person is unable to do it at that time. What happens is: My anxiety goes through the roof while I ask for help, and if the person I ask cannot do what I ask them to do, I take it super personally, and then I shut down. Maybe we were raised this way? Maybe millennial kids are just too fragile? I don’t know, man.
I’m even too tired to end this article. So I’mma shut up here.
Nj.Bakr 