Being an unbalanced mother (1)





Motherhood is the most beautiful thing that could happen to any woman. In Africa, it is important, necessary that a woman becomes a mother at a particular point in her life. If you are at that point in your life and it didn't happen, you have failed.







When I discovered I couldn't get pregnant after trying for some months, I was devastated. I wept. I had always been scared of conceiving since my automobile accident. I could't comprehend how someone like me would carry a child. But when I couldn't have it. I wanted it more than anything in life.

I prayed, I talked to God and asked Him why He would deny me motherhood after denying me so many other things.

Then I got pregnant and the fear returned. I was scared than I had ever been in my life. I had episodes of panic attacks, scary faces, howling dogs and angry creatures filled my dreams.

My days were filled with anxious thoughts of getting through the stages of pregnancy and even the afters.

"How will I take care of a little person when I could barely take care of me?" i would ask myself over and over again. How can someone depend on me when I am also depending on others?

My baby came unexpectedly one sunny day. I could't walk for two months after having him. I could only hold him while seated, that too was painful.

The first day I tried to hold him while standing when I couldn't get him to stop screaming. I almost dropped him from the blinding pain that tore through my back down my right leg.

"It would get better," I kept promising myself. Then I would talk to him of how much I love him. I told him the story of how I Iost my leg. I told him I might not be able to walk him but my hands would never get tired of holding him. I tell him everyday. I have no idea if he heard me or understood me, I just kept telling him and kept praying to God to give me the strength and the wisdom to take care of the gift He gave me.

All I know was afterwards, whenever he was crying if I held him to my chest and rocked him he would stop crying. Sometimes, I would sing him to sleep and rocked him. It took a lot of work, I would sing for hours sometimes, there were days I felt like I owed a decade sleep or that i would never sleep again. Most of Those days usually come with the thought that I had brought an innocent baby to my world to inherit my suffering and pain. I should have allowed him to come through someone who would be able to care for him like he deserved.

I made sure to buy him all that I could afford to make up for the ones I couldn't do and that I wouldn't be able to do. But I always felt like I was't doing enough that I would never be able to do enough. Maybe he would eventually preferred someone else to me, someone who could give him all that I could't offer.

Whenever my mother carried him outside to walk with him, I would wish that I could do it with him, show him the sky, the grass the nature. There would be the fear that he wouldn't see me as his mother or wish I weren't tugging fiercely from one corner of my head but I would keep blocking it with, " I am his mother, that is more than enough."

But it was not enough for me, at least not then.

Or maybe it would had been if I didn't have to go through breast engorgement and inability to make enough milk for my baby. (To be continued...)

#motherhood, #postpartumdepression, #pregnancy, #breastfeeding