Guilt ‘ am I enough, am I a bad parent, do I give enough?

I’m exhausted,

I want to sleep

I love my baby

I want to sleep

I’m hungry,

The dishes need washing,

I need a bath,

The shopping needs to be done,

I need to eat,

The baby is crying,

I’m tired.

The dinner needs to be cooked,

I need to close my eyes,

A wash needs to be put on.

I didn’t sign up for this,

No one told me it would be this hard

No one told me it was never ending

The baby needs to be fed,

I need to do the pre-school pick up,

Oh crap, tax is up on my car, I must renew it,

My friend wants to visit,

My mother in law wants me to call,


The baby just shit all over me, himself, the cot, the couch.

Fuck it!

I can’t do this,

I’m not designed to be a mother,

This is not me,

This is not who I am.

I miss me, the me I know, the smart, articulate, confidant woman who rocks it in the board room.

The one who everyone looks up to,

The one who has all the great ideas,

The one who organises the team meets,

The one who checks in on others to see how they are doing,

The one who the boss calls on because she knows I’ll be honest.

The one who has her shit together.

Yet here I am, a mess,

I can’t even be honest with myself, never mind others.

I’m loosing my shit here and I can’t tell anyone as that would mean I’m a failure, An impostor, A fake.

I can’t do this any more.

I’m tired,

I’m lonely,

I’m lost in motherhood and I don’t know the way out.

I pick myself up, wash the baby, the couch, cot and myself. I quickly fill the dishwasher, do a general tidy up and slap on some make up. The door bell rings and in walks my friend. I smile, I say I’m great and pretend that I’m the one she knows from the office.


Support is here, Michelle

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