I Will Get There Someday

I cut for the first time when I was 14 years old. I was never physically abused but I’m sure there was emotional trauma. I grew up with two parents who hated each other. My mother was mean, drank and said terrible things because I was (and still am) overweight. My father seemed like he didn’t give a shit and would break things and hit stuff when he was done with yelling.

When my mom saw the marks on my arm for the first time her words were, “You’d better not be doing that cutting shit because if you are….” They walked in on me with a knife to my arm when I was 15. Mom told me to leave and Dad took me out to try and smooth things over.

So I guess you could say I’ve always had issues with depression.

I became pregnant with my son at seventeen. At eighteen I got pregnant with my daughter. My son was a c-section, so for my daughter I had planned a natural VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) with midwives. What a joke that turned out to be! My labor was completely micromanaged. Even though I was in very early labor, since my water broke they started me on Pitocin. Then, every time the midwife (she was one) would grace us, she asked when I was getting my epidural. I was labeled with “failure to progress.” My daughter’s heartbeat was great, with normal dips but nothing that needed what I got.

My anesthesiologist was an incompetent asshole. When asked why it was taking so long to try for the epidural he told my husband, “Well, she just has A LOT of adipose (fat) tissue back here.” (Never mind that my anesthesiologist with my son got it in on the first shot and I was 5lbs heavier then.) When we finally made it to the OR, I was stripped naked in front of people I didn’t know. I felt so defeated, broken and disgusting. My stomach was taped back and a mask was placed over my face. I was then put under general anesthesia for no reason other than this doctor was terrible at what he did.

Since I was under general, my husband and my doula couldn’t be in the OR when my daughter was born. The first people to witness her presence and hear her cries weren’t people who would care for her during her life. They were all strangers, people who had no emotional tie. She was born at 12:22 AM; I didn’t see her or hold her until 4 AM. My husband was allowed into recovery for about 5 minutes and then had to leave. I felt so alone. My daughter’s birth was such an epic fail. Sure, I was so thankful she was alive, but I came out so broken from it all.

With my son, when I first held him I knew he was mine. It was like this love consumed me. I couldn’t imagine life without this beautiful kid in my arms. With my daughter, I felt nothing – no connection, no instant love, no maternal bond. She looked like a stranger.

What kind of mother feels nothing for her own child? Even now, coming up on her two year birthday, there are days where I feel like she isn’t mine. I feel like I’m babysitting someone else’s child. Her first year is such a haze. I don’t remember when most of her firsts were like I did with my son. I can’t tell you how old she was with her first smile or laugh. Or when she rolled for the first time. I was on autopilot. Mostly I remember crying a lot. I hated myself for being such a piece of shit mother. Here I was was with two beautiful kids and all I could think about was how broken it all was.

There have been a couple times when all I’ve wanted to do was run because what started out as Postpartum Depression with some possible PTSD has turned in to full blown depression and anger. Complete with thoughts of killing myself, cutting my arms up, causing bruises on myself and running away from it all.

Two years later and I still feel like such a worthless mother. My kids deserve a mom who won’t yell and scream, who won’t smack them because she is pissed, who won’t flip her shit just because they ask her the same thing a couple times. They deserve so much more than me. I really do try but it’s never enough. I can be great for days and then this rage comes out. I go from calm to “evil mom” in a matter of seconds.

I just don’t know how to fix myself anymore.