Posted in Motherhood, Parenting

104 Post-Partum

I can’t imagine this part of my life can be so complicated and easing at the same time.

I guess nothing really prepared me to face the life after I had a baby because there were more than once that I feel like giving up, like this life is not for me, or at least this part of my life is something that I can handle it now.

I wanted to run away, I wanted to search for myself that I lost somewhere between the labor room and the journey back from the hospital. I miss my old self, the one that throws all the care to the wind, the one that laugh at the spur of the moment, the one that has the guts to grab the bull by the balls.

Eros was not a hurdle nor he is a burden but there were so many times that I feel like he was in my way of getting to what I want. I am driven by my career and I know where I want to go and I know what I want out of my career. For three years, nothing happened to me and even when I grab the opportunities that came by, it flew out of my hand either with or without my control. Now that I have another purpose in life, another human being to live for that requires 110% of my time, I feel like I am going somewhere with my career life. Things are happening and missing pieces of the puzzle are falling into place.

It made me feel as though someone has tied a noose around my neck and expect me to live for another 100 years.

Where I charge at things in the name of work last time, I carry out with a heavy heart now, knowing that every project or every task that I do is taking me one step further from Eros. My heart cries but my mind bang the wall with iron fist, fighting to stay strong. I smile and laugh but insides are bleeding and torn.

And there was no one that could understand how I feel.

It’s either I have to work to make sure Eros is provided for or I should devote myself to him and screw the whole world. How was I to know I am as confused as my 3months old son who needs me as much as I need him? Although there has been more than once that I feel that it is me that needs him so that I can hold on to my last threads of sanity.

I was on leave for 2 days, away from work, away from my colleagues.

Eros has gotten the 110% of my time that he deserves for this past few days. I got up as early as 8 to feed Eros his breakfast. Then we would spend time playing with his toys, doing silly things together until it’s 10am. I bathe him and dress him up all nice and smelling good before feeding him again and he’s off to his afternoon nap. He usually wakes up around 4pm. After one feeding, he would play with his teething ring or just sit in his bouncinet and talk to my sisters and my mom. Most of the time he likes to be cuddle by me so both of us would read or watch TV together that way until he needs to be fed again.

Although it was just two days, I do feel like a full-time mom because I wake up early in the morning, feed, dress, bathe and put Eros to sleep all before it was noon. Then I prepared Mohen’s brunch and do the laundry. While he takes his shower before heading off to work, I was already drying out the clean laundry and about to straighten out the room because Eros is sleeping and when he wakes up later, I wouldn’t have time to fold his clothes and throw away the dirty diapers from last night.

Now doing all these, has somehow given me a strange serendipitous feeling of satisfaction.

I have not even thought of the feeling that I had 4weeks prior that this is something that I have to do over and over and over again tomorrow and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the day after that.

I feel fulfilled, I feel like I have a meaning to this life simply by being a mother, I feel complete that I have managed to clean and dress the baby, feed him and put him to sleep, do the laundry and prepare lunch for Mohen, sweep the floor and clean the kitchen, check on the baby and see Mohen off to work.

Now, I know that I can do this after all. I just need to give myself time and a little of what they all call, faith.



A feminist mother of 3 who thinks she can write.

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