From the depths

They say pride comes before a fall, and they aren't far wrong. As you will know from my last post, we have the lurgy. The plague. First it was the much dreaded norovirus, and now it's a viral infection. It's bad enough at 39, but at almost six months old it's pretty unbearable, especially when the idiots who are raising you don't have a clue. My poor poor boy's health goes up and down faster than a prostitute's knickers these days. In fact, days aren't so bad, it's the nights that are a killer. I smugly thought we were getting over it...but I was wrong.

You are warned that parenting is hard. Every man and his goddamned dog revel in reminding you that you'll never sleep again, but what few people mention is the guilt. The helplessness. The frustration. The anger. At 26 weeks, Lil Bird is trying hard to talk to us. He chatters and chunters to us all the time, but actual words elude him. There have been a few times we've thought he said "yeah" but we aren't convinced. He can't tell us what is hurting and we can't explain to him why snot is pouring out of every orifice or why his throat hurts. That's a lot to handle right there on its own. But add in sleep deprivation and you discover a very special circle of hell reserved just for parents.

I have cried bucketloads this past week. My patience is long gone. I hate everyone and everything. I hate this bug. I hate being covered in puke. I hate the baby wiping snot on my tits. I hate forcing toast in when I'm not hungry, because I need to fuel up to make milk for the baby. I hate not knowing what to do to help him as he cries after yet another bout of coughing till he pukes. I hate seeing him in pain and unhappy. I hate my hubs ability to sleep through bloody anything, including being puked on. I hate resenting my child wanting me and not my husband to comfort him. Most of all, I hate that I'm having all these negative hateful feelings.

Last night I hit a new low. Understandably, the baby is sick of random shit that is not milk going down is throat and he has taken to protesting against the calpol. I thought teenagers had the duck face market locked down, but they aren't a patch on a baby refusing a calpol syringe! It is utterly heartbreaking to hear them cry, and move their head to try to avoid the meds, and I was already exhausted, so you can imagine my horror when my child unmistakably said "Mama" in the most forlorn and hopeless wee voice. It is soul destroying to hear that your baby's first words are a plea for you to leave them the fuck alone.

I sincerely hope we are turning a corner, and that we can soon put this behind us...I, for one, am not feeling worthy of the title of mum right now and I'm sending big hugs to those feeling the same.