I look into your eyes and it’s an overwhelming feeling of love and pity that sweeps across my body.
I should be seeing joy and happiness, feeling a sense of pride and gratitude like nothing else on earth but I am not. I feel immense sadness and sorrow for you because I am your mother and you deserve so much more than me.
I have never felt I was an ungrateful being or someone who couldn’t see the beauty in things but for the past 2 years, I have been unable to feel those wonderful feelings of pride, joy, love and mostly gratitude. You see, I am not an ungrateful woman, nor am I cruel or loveless, I am just sick. I am sick with something that has ailed me for more than half of my 39 years on this earth but this past 2 years has been the hardest, the darkest, the scariest and the loneliest time yet.
This time, 2 years ago, I found myself just pregnant with my second child and my sickness took its downward turn. It was not that I was ungrateful to be filled with the blessing of a baby or that I did not want another child and apart from some common fears amongst women having their second child, I have no idea what changed me then. Perhaps it was a chemical thing, a hormonal thing, perhaps that was just a coincidence but whatever it was, that’s when it started.
From that time on, I have struggled immensely, more than I could ever tell another human being, more than I could possibly tell my Mum (to whom I tell most everything, for she is my best friend), more than I could possibly tell my psychologist or my psychiatrist or my forever loving partner who has suffered greatly over this past 24 months.
For two years, I have been living in the darkest place I have ever known, not constantly but the lighter times have been few and far between and I have had enough. I spent 3 weeks in a mother baby unit when my daughter was 3 months old and continued on counselling, medication (including self medicating) and counselling since then.