Today was one of those days during which I questioned why I ever wanted to be a mom. I didn’t even spend the whole day with Genevieve; she was at the babysitter’s for four hours while I went into the city for my advising appointment for the coming semester.
I am disappointed that I am not enjoying motherhood more. I don’t know why I didn’t realize how much work there would be. Honestly, I don’t remember what I thought being a mom would be all about. The main disappointment that I can plop my finger upon is that I don’t feel more satisfaction at the end of the day. I thought I would feel fulfilled on all levels as a mom, but unfortunately, I am feeling the exact opposite.
Perhaps I thought that I would feel complete and happy once I had another life dependent upon me, but that completion hasn’t happened for me yet. I think also that I am unconsciously always thinking that the next big thing is going to erase my depression permanently. Of course, I know that life doesn’t work that way.
I am probably feeling the post-wedding blues, too. Sunday was so perfect and love-filled; how could I not feel slightly let down upon returning to everyday hectic life with Genny?
A sampling of our time spent together today: Genevieve pulled every single book off her shelf creating a jumbled pile; she emptied out an entire box of panty liners crumpling a number of them into unusable crinkled garbage; she slopped baby food on the wall and threw melba toast crumbs way under the kitchen table; she threw Baby Doll Two from the stroller at least a dozen times, but would scream if I didn’t hand her back after being rescued from the filthy sidewalk.
Now, for all of you wanna-be moms out there, I know you are probably thinking to yourself, “Oh, I think that all sounds so cute, and besides, my baby won’t throw things.” Well, just for the record, you‘ve now been warned, so please don’t come crying back to me, “Why didn’t somebody tell me what it was really like?”