After delivering my last son of four, I am taken to a hospital room floor for women recovering from C-sections followed by postpartum blues. I had my share of the blues! The night before it was time for me to go home, I cried. I had an ache that crawled inside of me and sat in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, I became afraid, I didn’t want to go home I told my nurse. She asked me, “Why?” She had a look on her face as if she was preparing herself for me to say that I had an abusive partner at home, was unable to financially care for the child, or relatives who didn’t care. Instead, I told her I didn’t want to go home, because I didn’t know what to expect. My partner didn’t seem happy about being a father for the second time and I was unsure about him being very helpful to me. I had no family or friends that would be coming over. Then I cried. I cried harder about going home more than I ever did about staying in the hospital.
She was sympathetic. She had shared a story with me of her own relationship drama. She didn’t like going home herself, because she was alone. Her mate had been away for months now on “business” and she didn’t know when he would be returning. She had offered to pray for me and then just like that she was gone. I wanted her to stay longer, and tell me more about this partner who had been gone for so long on “business,” but I didn’t dare ask any more questions that would have kept her with me any longer, since there were plenty more women on that floor who probably had even worse issues. I guess the idea of being a mother for a fourth time, my partner’s “true” reaction to it and my being so far away from home (I live 3,000 miles away from everyone I know), brought those ugly blues out into the open.
The next day my boyfriend showed up with flowers (I had asked for,) so that I could give them out to the hospital staff that helped me. Surprisingly, there were a few in the bunch he had picked up for me that I hadn‘t requested. I say “surprisingly” because when he came to see me in the hospital the night before, I was irritable due to our oldest child being fretful, loud and his father not being able to control him. I was in pain and just couldn’t handle the temper tantrums, I’m sure you could understand if you are a mother, so I was tearful, I wanted him and my noisy child to go home. He brought none of his family to help him with our child or maybe none was available. Whatever the case, I had recently given birth and I was sick and tired of being tired.
You may have had emotional lows too and all you wanted was for your partner to be understanding, but no matter what you said or did, he still didn’t act a little bit interested. Babies change relationships. I haven’t seen one where things got better as a result of having a baby. Men “act different” when their lovers become mothers. He never sees you the same way, for some men they may fall in love harder, but for many they are looking for the next woman who they didn’t have children with to compliment, encourage, entertain, feed and ultimately have sex with them, simply because she doesn’t have those “issues” that motherhood brings. The new woman has never said and did anything that offended him, but he has a history with the old one. A history of watching her vomit because the baby has upset her stomach, being a victim of her occasional mood swings, and seeing her body go through undesirable changes.
Having children brings out the best and worst of anyone. They tap on emotions you didn’t think you had. They cause you to reach new levels of love, compassion, anger, sadness and any other feeling inside you may not have ever experienced. Whether you are a stay-at-home mother, working or retired mother you can relate.
My one week of emotional highs and lows came and went. With each passing day, I became stronger mentally and physically. The baby’s cries would trigger a negative reaction within me, but I didn’t dwell in the negativity, I just answered his demands and did what needed to be done. I was too busy to think about whether I was happy or sad about my newborn. For over a month, the baby needed something every two hours each day and night. There were times when dad was a help and there were times where I might as well been alone.
I couldn’t recall when was the last time I cried about anything related to the baby. My newborn did enough crying for the both of us as he grew older. Instead, my tears behind closed doors were for his dad...
To read more about Ms. McGuire's ordeal, get her book entitled When Mothers Cry available on Amazon.com.
Written by Nicholl McGuire for more writings by this writer visit Click Here!
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