Posted by: Anna | July 22, 2010


I read this post today at and had to share this here.

Because as a mom, as new mothers, with our first, second or third child, we all experience different feelings.

I have only experienced motherhood once in my life, so far.  And I have always wanted to talk about my experience because I thought writing a book is just so much better but here is a glimpse.  

I was a pregnant single woman.  I had the support and love of my family but I would lay asleep or awake at night pregnant, big, fat and alone.  At some point I started staying in my mother’s bed because my bed was so uncomfortable and her bed screamed heaven, my dad gladly gave up his spot which to this day amazes me so that I could sleep and not feel alone.  When my leg would cramp I would just walk around quietly and suck it up.  Towards the end of my pregnancy I would apologize profusely to my mother because I would have to pee so much at night and she was a light sleeper, she had the privilege of sleeping with a tiny elephant, me.  My brother and sister were my craving runners, giving me just about anything I wanted, even ice cream at eleven at night.  Joey was always rubbed and loved for in my belly, there was no doubt this kid was going to be spoiled.  I constantly kept myself put together, dressed up and made up and I felt happy, even though at night I felt the opposite.

I was thrilled to be having a baby, but not this way.  Alone.  And I wasn’t alone, I had my f friends and family who are by far the most loving people anyone could pray for.  I was blessed.

When Joey was born I was happy.  I didn’t cry tears of joy, I was just happy.  He looked just like my dad and he was thrilled.

When I was handed Joey I expected to feel a slew of emotions, but I just felt content and nervous.  I now had a human being to care for.  I was swollen and in pain and exhausted having been awake for twelve hours straight.  And I NEVER understood why I had to be induced at two in the morning, I mean, couldn’t they have let me sleep in to at least seven in the morning?

None the less, I had many visitors all who cooed over Joey and would ask me countless of questions, which today are just a haze to me.

The first night I brought Joey home I was afraid.  This was it, I was scared.  The epidural had worn off, my legs were as swollen as elephant legs, and the makeup I thought I wanted to wear after birth stayed tucked in my purse with no light ever seeing it for seven days straight (which was a shocker even to me).  I was exhausted, depressed and happy to have my son all in one emotion.

The first night Joey was home he cried ALL night.  It never occurred to me that his circumcision would hurt him so bad twelve hours later and after gently shushing my baby and rocking him, afraid to wake up anyone else in the house my mother finally walked into my room.  She asked maybe he’s hungry? Which I gently said, No, I just nursed him.  His crying never stopped. My mother offered to hold Joey, maybe she could shush him to sleep and maybe I could get at least an hour of sleep.  But I said NO.

I AM his mom.  I AM supposed to know what’s wrong with him.  I AM supposed to be his everything and I can’t even make him feel well.  I’m not supposed to need help, it’s just me and I’m smart and strong enough to figure this out.

I honestly didn’t want help from anyone.  Until I broke down that night and surrendered Joey to my mom.  I felt like a failure, a mom who needed help. And I hated it.  I would do everything everyday single day to NOT ask for help.  Until I would lose it, I would just cry quietly so that no one would hear me. I was a happy mom, but I was a lonely mom.  I loved nursing Joey, I loved watching him sleep. I didn’t mind all the work it involved, but it felt empty at times.  And I didn’t want to be weak so I never allowed myself to cry in front of anyone, crying was meant for the showers only.

As time passed, the more I talked about it the better I felt.  The more I saw sun, the better I felt.  The less my breasts hurt from nursing, the better I felt.  It took me at least two weeks to bounce out of it.  Joey grew and so did my confidence that yeah, maybe this isn’t’ perfect, but we are damn perfect for each other.

And Joey is almost three now and we are meant for each other, this morning he woke up bouncing into my arms telling me “Mommy you are so pretty”.  I have no idea where he learns some thing’s from, but I’m glad he thinks so.

So, to not go any further, this was triggered from Goop, in which a few woman talk about their post partum depression, and maybe I just had the baby blues, but I still can relate.  And hopefully this will help someone else other than just me.

Here’s the link.



  1. I just about freakin cried!!!

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