I was wiping down the fridge yesterday (hate cleaning the fridge, why can't we have self-cleaning fridges? Also, I'm an author, surely authors don't have to clean fridges?) when I noticed this A4 sheet stuck to the side with a magnet. It had a list of dates, neatly demarcated into trimesters, then weeks, week-by-week. It was the list I'd made when I'd first found I was pregnant again (mid Jan). In the time it took for my eyes to scroll down to July 31, I was in full blown panic.
I'm still panicking. I am 32 weeks pregnant. How did that happen?
As in I know the technicalities of hello-sperm-meet-ovum, but how did I get to 32 weeks? That means in four weeks I am 36 and that means that anytime after that I will have a newborn on my hands. No sleep. Breast-feeding. Leaky tits, wet bra. Different mindfuck-creating poo consistencies. 15 times nappy changing (at least three for Mia and rest for B2.0)
No Twitter! No blogging! No time for maniacally tracking Goodreads! (Yes I know I'm supposed to be all cool and not care about who and how many are reading my book, but bloodyhell I do care, deal with it) No Facebook! :O
Not to mention the fact that every other recently-born second baby -- at least 10 friends have had baby number twos -- has been falling consistently ill. I am not ready. I haven't done the new cot (don't even have one), haven't got clothes ready, haven't even decided on any names. More than anything else, I am... just not sure of myself.
When Mia was born (or about to be), I was so focussed on the to-be baby. This time round it's not the case. With Mia, I knew that all I wanted was to look after my newborn and give her the best and the most of me. I've been dedicated to her for two years. I haven't had any nightouts, I've been around her, I've spent every waking moment and have been woken up from sleeping moments to be with her.
For five years since quitting ibnlive in 2008, I've been no one but someone's girlfriend, the last two of which I've been someone's mom...
Now with Confessionally Yours finally published, I am slowly finding myself again. I am still a girlfriend and still a mom and I love it, but I am also someone else. I think of subjects other than baby and what to cook (despite the Instagram recipes!). I react to what's happening in the world, particularly in my country. I am talking to people about stuff other than the best nappy rash cream. And I have to be honest that I am absolutely loving it. I feel alive!
And I feel massively guilty. Guilty because suddenly I don't want to give this up. I still don't want to work in an office but I definitely don't want to go back in the (self-created) hole of just being a mother/housewife. I know it sounds horrible and selfish and other not-a-good-mother things, but that's how I'm feeling.
Mostly, I am terrified that I won't have a choice -- newborns do that to you -- and will end up resenting the baby. Partner says he is confident I am making up things in my head and that I will bond with this new person as well... but what if he is wrong?
I'm still panicking. I am 32 weeks pregnant. How did that happen?
As in I know the technicalities of hello-sperm-meet-ovum, but how did I get to 32 weeks? That means in four weeks I am 36 and that means that anytime after that I will have a newborn on my hands. No sleep. Breast-feeding. Leaky tits, wet bra. Different mindfuck-creating poo consistencies. 15 times nappy changing (at least three for Mia and rest for B2.0)
No Twitter! No blogging! No time for maniacally tracking Goodreads! (Yes I know I'm supposed to be all cool and not care about who and how many are reading my book, but bloodyhell I do care, deal with it) No Facebook! :O
Not to mention the fact that every other recently-born second baby -- at least 10 friends have had baby number twos -- has been falling consistently ill. I am not ready. I haven't done the new cot (don't even have one), haven't got clothes ready, haven't even decided on any names. More than anything else, I am... just not sure of myself.
When Mia was born (or about to be), I was so focussed on the to-be baby. This time round it's not the case. With Mia, I knew that all I wanted was to look after my newborn and give her the best and the most of me. I've been dedicated to her for two years. I haven't had any nightouts, I've been around her, I've spent every waking moment and have been woken up from sleeping moments to be with her.
For five years since quitting ibnlive in 2008, I've been no one but someone's girlfriend, the last two of which I've been someone's mom...
Now with Confessionally Yours finally published, I am slowly finding myself again. I am still a girlfriend and still a mom and I love it, but I am also someone else. I think of subjects other than baby and what to cook (despite the Instagram recipes!). I react to what's happening in the world, particularly in my country. I am talking to people about stuff other than the best nappy rash cream. And I have to be honest that I am absolutely loving it. I feel alive!
And I feel massively guilty. Guilty because suddenly I don't want to give this up. I still don't want to work in an office but I definitely don't want to go back in the (self-created) hole of just being a mother/housewife. I know it sounds horrible and selfish and other not-a-good-mother things, but that's how I'm feeling.
Mostly, I am terrified that I won't have a choice -- newborns do that to you -- and will end up resenting the baby. Partner says he is confident I am making up things in my head and that I will bond with this new person as well... but what if he is wrong?
6 comments:
Dear Jhoomur,
Don't worry, most mothers go through these very emotions. I had baby 2 ten months ago. Had a difficult pregnancy and as soon as I reclaimed my body, I wanted to do all the things I had been putting on hold. So I launched into my first attempt at writing a novel. Hey, you already did that!
Things will only get better. All luck for your book and everything else!
> Why can't we have a self cleaning fridge?
Well, so that sometimes authors can clean them.
> Also, I'm an author, surely authors don't have to clean fridges?
So don't hottentots.
> > Why can't we have a self cleaning fridge?
Or perhaps, it is the revenge of the mechanical engineer. You see, engineers and scientists get jealous of the glam.
Of course, they don't mind sharing these little inventions with secret agents.
Hi Jhoomur,
Was going thru the "inactive" blogs on my reader, when I realised you had "moved" ! SO, before I catch up with the last two years worth of your blog, let me just say
Congrats, on Book No.1 and (impending) Baby No.2 :D Time flies!
Congratulations on both the book and the baby. What??? You clean fridge? I thought that is something you in a rented flat when its time to move out ;)
Well, I was like this about my first baby, but you probably know it's not a hit or miss situation with someone you've carried in you for 36 weeks. I mean, it's not a "will I love it, will I not?" question. Perhaps that's why they say second babies are easier because you really don't have the time to worry about them.
As for the fear of losing yourself again, it's only temporary. You have the right to persue your dreams, too. Your children, when they grow up, are going to respect you for that.
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