A Reluctant Mother

I have never wanted to become a parent. I think it is the most selfish act these days. Why would I want to give birth to another human being? Someone who would suffer the harshness of reality. Another person who would be a burden to Earth. I love my son, do not get me wrong, but I regret sometimes. I feel I am not mother enough, doing the right things. Questions like, will my son live a time when he would eat another person? Or the basic, why have I allowed authorities to bully me into vaccination?

The truth is, I started this maternal journey with the wrong foot forward. From conception and up to the end of last year (I think), I was unwell and not fit to become a mother (I think).

I suffered depression before the pregnancy. I had a miscarriage which I did not grieve, because people told me it was normal to lose a child at any stage in pregnancy. I pretended it was alright, that I was okay. I thought that I would lose another child during my subsequent pregnancy. Even after my son turned one, I feared he would die any time soon. I barely felt that mother and child connection. I believed my son did not love me at all. I was alone and hurt. And in the process, it shook my marriage. Luckily, my husband stayed strong for our family.

Depression. Anxiety. Grief and Loss. Postpartum Depression. Perhaps Paranoia.

I was bat-shit crazy. Literally. Like literally and not just using the word literally for the sake of it.

Yeah, I diagnosed myself. But hey, I went to the GP and I got a referral letter for a shrink. I did not use it, though. It was for an emergency use only, although I was already in an emergency mental status.

I held on to myself or what was left of me. I prayed, even though not much, but I prayed. I put my faith in love. Then I hoped. One day I woke up okay. That was the end of it.

Not selling a drama anymore,