whisky

They gave her to me after I gained consciousness. My husband was sitting there and he seemed happy. I’m glad he is. When they gave her to me, I couldn’t breathe, a person coming out of me. I couldn’t believe she existed. She was beautiful and asleep. I was scared I was holding her too tight, afraid that I might break her.

“You’ll be a great mother” my husband said.

He shouldn’t have. I won’t be. I have no idea how to do this. What do I do when she cries? How do I clean her up when she shits? I consoled myself saying this is just the beginning. I will feel better.

Eventually.

Eventually never came. The first week after we got discharged, I realized that she would never stop crying. Ever. She was always crying. She cried so much after a point I learned how to tune her out. I could see her cry, but I just stopped hearing it. I know you think I’m a bad mother and you’re right. But I don’t know what to do.

How do I stop her from crying? I should be better at this. She shouldn’t be crying so much, right? What should I do? I tried feeding her. She stops for a while and goes to sleep. But when she wakes up it starts again. I need to sleep. It’ll be fine, I’ll be better. I told my mother I’m not good enough, I asked her to look after my daughter, she laughed.

“It’s okay, it’s just the first week, you’ll be a great mother”

 

She’s one now. I don’t think I love her very much. I don’t want to be around her. She makes me nauseous. She doesn’t sleep at night. I mix a little bit of whisky in her milk, so that she sleeps. I let her sit in soiled diapers. I want to change, but I’m tired. I told my husband I can’t do this, he laughed.

“You’re just freaking out for no reason. You’ll be  great mother, you love our daughter”

I don’t, I wanted to tell him I don’t. But I didn’t

 

She’s four. She was standing on the balcony and I wanted to push her off it. I did. She has done nothing wrong. But I’ve failed. What do I do? She doesn’t cry much anymore, but I know she’s sad. I shouldn’t have hit her so much. I don’t want to make her sad. I don’t want to. I want her to be loved.

 

She’s twenty now. I met her yesterday.

“Why did you leave?”

“I wasn’t a good mother, I never recovered from when you were born, I wasn’t ready, I was angry and I was scared”

“You didn’t love me?”

“I did, for a while. I do now. But I didn’t when I left. I wanted to smother you with a pillow at times. So I left, love is not enough to raise a child. I didn’t have the strength”

“You left me, because you’re a coward”

I wanted to say no, I was a coward, but that wasn’t the only reason. Another human being is not easy to raise. I wasn’t a “good” mother. I wanted to say a lot of things. I wanted to hug her and be friends with her.

“I didn’t leave because you were a terrible child”

She was tearing up and now I could see what I had done. I had brought this human being into this world, but I wasn’t ready to look after her. I left her and now all she can think is that she deserves terrible things. I wanted to tell her she is wonderful and that I’m proud. But I still cannot be her mother. I can see she wants it. But I can’t. I’m still afraid.

I still wouldn’t know what to do, if she cried.

“Come with me, it’s okay, you’ll be a good mother this time” she said.

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