From the series introverts should not have children unless they can afford a daytime nanny.

So I read  this on the fussy and colic babies support page on facebook (I am not alone) and can already picture my life a few years from now. Is this perhaps why I am always so drained for energy? As an introvert I always valued time alone, even my husband could get on my nerves sometimes, so what to say of my literally overly attached-to-me baby? Ok, she is just a (high need) baby, I get it. But then if this 'no time alone' pattern continues throughout her childhood, I'm certainly screwed. Looking forward to her teen years. And yup, she does love being out and about (picture above), even it means to be overly tired afterwards and screaming her heart out to make it a point. 

Expectations x Reality: one big laugh

Writing this with a teething high need baby nursing, so be aware of the lack of grammatic coherence in the text.

Before becoming a mom, I had a certain idea of how I would handle everyday life things, the 'toughest' part I could picture were sleepless nights, because that is what most of people (my own mom included) seem to slightly mention concerning parenthood. The time spent with my newborn would be rather joyful, afterall all you need to do is nurse, then they sleep like two or three hours straight, then you change a diaper, and go on with your life, how hard could it be? LOL.

You know how I got this naive idea? Observing. Looking around. Hearing. At the gym. At cafés. In airplanes and airports. Travelling. And everywhere else where normal human beings spend their daily lives. Who to blame? The easy babies. They do exist, and they are apparently everywhere. The easy babies and their moms. It is now easy for me to spot the easiest baby on the block. It is usually that one that even after half hour baby swimming, calmly lies down inside its lift, while the mother combs her wet hair. This is provocation. Who the heck has time to hair styling after a baby swimming lesson?? I'm lucky if I can have a quick soap free shower just to rinse off the stinky water away from my skin. Shortly followed by my screaming baby who protests no matter how short it is the time she has to be 'on her own' while I dress myself, gather our things and hold five things in my hands (baby included) while exiting the dressroom. In the meantime my hair looks like a 80s' pop singer's hairdo (a nigtmare called 'let the unwashed wet hair dry on its own'). Haha.

Easy babies and my false expectations during my pre-baby life. They are the ones sleeping in the cafés, usually inside a lift or even outside in their prams (in Denmark it is common sense to leave one's baby outside a café while the mother enjoys a meal - possibly wine or a cocktail included, since this is ok here as well). Sleeping while the mother can leisurely hold a normal conversation with a friend, how convenient. Haha.

Easy babies and my false expectations concerning coming back to shape. I thought I would be back to the gym just as soon as my doctor gave me her 'ok, go for it'. After all how many times have I seen those little babies in their strollers, awake and serene while the mother lifts weight and during breaks even talk to her gym pal. How hard can this be? Hahaha. 

Travelling. Always a child screaming, but these are usually toddlers. Babies are always soooo quiet. Even while waiting for embarking, even if it takes forever. And so many blog posts I once read mentioning how it is just fine and actually the most perfect time in one's child life to travel while they are just babies. Hahahahaha.

Conclusion. Easy babies are everywhere. These were the ones whom I thought were the average babies, the ones I looked at and thought 'aww how cute, I want one too'. The difficult ones, the high need ones, the colicky ones, these are inside their home with a mother terrified to step out of the door, while struggling with ppd and God knows what else. They are the ones who behave the opposite in the previously described situations. The very opposite. These are like my baby.

Before I forget.

You know what would be wonderful? To be able to afford a top shrink, the psychoanalyst kind, that sits there and hardly say anything, while you just vomit words for one hour straight. Twice a week. Fact is I wouldn't have time anyway, even if I could - $$$$$ - go. Sometimes I think I'm getting crazy, little by little. My mood these days is like a rollercoaster. I can go from serenity to rage in a matter of minutes, from happiness to depression even faster. Nothing seems to help, of course I've tried opening up - to my partner, one close friend - who happens to live overseas, as I have no close friends in Denmark, a couple of health professionals, strangers in a therapy group… nothing helps. NOTHING.

I've become a mother. I should be happy-happy according to everyone in the world and the cover of mommy/baby magazines. "Isn't it lovely?" - I've been asked more than once. I hesitate to answer, but always bluntly answer what everyone expects to hear.

There's a pattern of feelings that turn to explode like a H bomb. Feelings I've not quite experienced before, not that way. A mixture of guilt, pride, joy and sadness all at once.

With motherhood it comes frustration. Frustration because you can hardly control anything in your life anymore, and I'm more or less the control freak kind. Example 1 - after another sleepless night and a day that starts at 6am, a typical day, where your high need nearly five month year old baby girl won't nap, unless you stroll around the boring surroundings of your neighbourhood while she peacefully sleeps in her pram - for one hour - and you're hungry - cause it is soon noon and you should get some lunch, considering you didn't really have a decent breakfast (who has the time?), but there's no left overs and again - there will be no time to cook something - so you just starve for one hour, after all it is worth it, and she can have some sleep, instead of those power naps in the crib or sleeping in your arms as she pleases, while you cannot go and pee, cause if you do, she will wake up, and if she does, you will have to start all over again - nursing her to sleep, because baby uses me as a human pacifier. So you're home, and you play together, because she cannot play on her own without crying of frustration for losing her toy and not being able to hold it again, so you're there to hand it right away in order to not hear that piercing crying once again. And then there's feeding, the third poop nappy change of the day, and more feeding, and more "I don't want to nap" crying-screaming, and more nursing, because now it is not only about soothing, it is about teething, and mommy has become a human biding ring as well (ouch, mommy's breast is indeed the best). And in the meanwhile you haven't eaten properly again, you haven't vacuum-cleaned, you haven't done the goddamn Tracy Anderson post-natal workout, your home looks like a living hell, and all that mess and dirt makes the cheap furniture looks even cheaper. So you're frustrated.

But then it is Friday, it is weekend, you have something to look forward too. Hubby is coming home, 630pm, later than you expected, but what the hell. Baby is really upset of tiredness. So you ask: "Can't you go for a walk, so she can nap?". He goes. 15 minutes later (maybe it was more, but it sure felt like it), he is back, baby is sleeping. Takes the lift off the pram and places it at the balcony. A lift on the ground doesn't move. Baby wakes up - surprise, surprise. Not really. From frustration I go from rage in a matter of minutes. What could I possibly have accomplished in 15 minutes? I send husband and baby away. Go away, come back in one hour and a half, I say. I was harsh. So it is almost 9pm and they aren't back yet. Baby should have a bath, and who knows today she goes to bed earlier than the other days. Her schedule changes insanely no matter what I do. And she won't take a pacifier, like ever. Or a bottle of expressed milk. Frustration, and with it a sense of failure. And then you compare yourself with others, whose babies are so easy in so many ways. With motherhood it comes frustration, and with frustration it comes a lot of other feelings - rage, sadness, envy. It sucks.