A moment of weakness

 

The ear-splitting sound of my baby's screams resonate through the house, each one sending a knife through my heart. I've been trying to console her for the past 45 minutes with no success, and my husband comes to take over as he senses my growing frustration and overwhelming feelings starting to take their hold on me. I feel an emotional pain that is unexplainable to anyone who is not a parent.
I am a horrible mother.
I blame myself for my babies distress. It has to be something I ate - was that tea that I'd had early decaffeinated? No amount of bouncing, rocking, soothing words or back rubbing seems to work. However, within 5 minutes with her Father, her cries settle, and soon she is peacefully sleeping on his chest. I feel a surge of mixed emotions; relief that we are free from her pained cries for a peaceful minute, and resentful that my husband can so easily accomplish what I was unable to.
I don't understand - surely my 5 week old daughter is far too young to hate her mother. I was confident that I would have until she was at least thirteen years old before we entered that phase of her life. Am I simply an incompetent parent? Do I simply lack the "maternal" instinct that everyone speaks of?
All I want is to rid my daughter of her pain and distress. I would happily take whatever burden she may be dealing with and make it my own, if it meant she could be comfortable for even a minute.

You think the restrictions are crippling when you are pregnant? Well, they don't go away when you give birth and make the decision to breastfeed your baby. You must consider how everything you eat might affect your baby once they ingest it through your milk. Caffeine must still be enjoyed in limited amounts, if at all, and don't even get me started on the issues surrounding dairy products.
In a moment of weakness I curse the whole notion of breastfeeding and think of how much easier my life would be if I exchanged it for a bottle and formula; that way the burden could be removed from my shoulders and split equally between my husband and myself. But almost as soon as that thought has left my mind I am flooded with guilt, making me feel increasingly worse about myself and my questionable capabilities as a mother.
Could Brooklyn simply be stubborn, wanting to sleep in our arms rather than her bed? Is my sweet, innocent baby capable of manipulation? Surely she can't be.
As she awakens and begins another round of torment, I begin to sob. I do not know what her cries mean, nor do I know what thoughts are running through her perfectly shaped head. I do not know how much longer I can listen to her agonizing cries.
I lay motionless on our bed, completely shattered with emotions as my husband paces the hallways attempting to calm our daughter.
This is just a phase, and we will get past it. Right........?

"You are human and mortal; we are the sum of our weak moments and our strong"

Mercedes Lackey