When the fog lifts

When the fog lifts

When the fog lifts, I feel like superwoman. Every now and then its like I wake from some kind of anxiety-induced hibernation and all of a sudden, little things no longer threaten to send me over the edge. So the baby turns into Teddy Spaghetti when i try to fasten him into the pushchair. Fine. I’ll just wait it out, or perhaps sing wind the bobbin up or something child friendly like that. So the baby has thrown his entire dinner on the floor and is climbing out of his seat, which means that he won’t be eating again and so will be spending all night up with a bottle of SMA’s finest tonight. Fine. I’ll just go with the flow. Thats because the fog has lifted, you see.
I don’t always know when the curtains are drawn until it starts to feel like I will have to see someone if I want to get out of bed in the morning. When the fog has descended, the small things that make my baby who he is become great things. The fourth or fifth time tucking him back into his bed at three in the morning makes me cry. I’m so ashamed of not coping that I don’t tell anyone and for the first time in my life I am crying myself to sleep.
When the curtains are drawn, some days are greeted with a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sometimes I think I won’t actually get through the day at all. When the curtains are drawn I know for a fact my children don’t deserve a mother like me and that makes me sad. It makes me want to run away and let them all live freely, with happiness and laughter.
The fog can lift suddenly, without me really knowing why. All I know is that it always lifts. I have no faith in GPs anymore, since I went for help and came home with a label that made me feel sick. I never wanted a label. I only ever wanted to talk. I only ever wanted some answers. I only ever wanted to do it all again and get it right the second time.
I know that one day I will fall asleep easily and I will not dream about the things that have been waking me since my son was born. I know that eventually the fog will lift for longer and longer periods of time and eventually I will forget this feeling. I know that will happen.
When the fog lifts, I am supermum. I am happy to be. I am able to be. I am all that I want to be.


10 responses to “When the fog lifts

  • Pippa

    You are always a supermum.

  • TheBoyandMe

    Oh this struck such a chord with me. The fog descends with no notice! Yesterday afternoon was a bad one. I wanted to go to the park and beach, but by the time The Boy had finished his lunch, tiredness had kicked in & I was having.difficulty keeping my eyes open. Had a horrible afternoon with me being the worst mother in the world and I cried 3 times.

    I know a large part of it for me is tiredness, and I suspect the same for gou.

    Chin up chick, always here.

  • Donna@MummyCentral

    Oh honey, this blog describes just how most of us are feeling, a lot of the time. Suspect the label you talk about is what I’ve been labelled with, since the birth of my first. And I agree that sleep deprivation is a HUGE part of it. No-one knows how awful it feels to be awake at 3am – with no prospect of your child sleeping and letting you get some rest. Then we feel we have to be Sister Maria from The Sound of Music the next day – singing happily to our kids, performing puppet shows and sewing them cute outfits. The thing is, loving them is enough. And they’re not suffering if mum needs to lie on the couch for an hour – or spend the day at home in her dressing gown. This time will pass and the more sleep we get, the more the fog will disappear.
    It’s shocking the lack of knowledge or support from the medical experts – who just want to drug you up to the eyeballs.
    I took their advice first time round, and just found myself mired in a thicker fog.
    Second time, I found a support group, run with a voluntary psychotherapist who really helped me. It’s worth pushing your midwife to find out if there’s anything similar in your area.
    But if you ever need to talk, I’m here.

  • Mcai7td3

    Sometimes even Supermums have bad spells. I think every mum feels like this from time to time. You totally deserve your babies, you are a good mummy!!

  • Crystal Jigsaw

    I don’t know what the label you talk about is but I have little faith in GP’s also. They don’t have the knowledge anymore and getting a diagnosis is often a very painful and traumatic part of living. All I will say is don’t beat yourself up; you are a wonderfully supportive mum and your children love you unconditionally, as you do them. None of us are perfect, but we are all human and have our limits.

    I’m sending you virtual hug. Being a mum is bloody hard work; unless you become one you will never understand how much. But it is rewarding too.

    Take care, CJ xx

  • Dreamingofbeer

    I won’t repeat everyone else’s comments but I’d echo what has been said. I think one of the hardest things about being a mum is the high expectations you put on yourself to be this all-singing-all-dancing superwoman that in reality just doesn’t exist.

    I always find that getting out is easier than staying in. Being around other mums will often show you that you’re not alone on the rollercoaster that is motherhood.

    Thinking of you. x

    • ghostwritermummy

      Thanks for your comments. Its only when I am having an ‘up’ time that I realise how I struggle sometimes. I have a lovely support groupd of mummy friends, I agreee- they are a lifeline!

  • Beadzoid

    This has struck a chord with me too, and as always is written with an emotional honesty and elegance.

    I’ve been labelled too, but i don’t actually mind because it’s true. I’m just trying hard to change my own misconceptions of the label. I’m lucky that I’ve got a brilliant couple of doctors who ask me what I want to do and help me understand what is happening. However, I realise I’m one of the lucky few.

    I hope you find a solution because you are a brilliant mum and I’d hate for you to feel inadequate and have these precious years blighted. Try and separate the two. You are struggling, but it has no bearing on you as a parent. I totally understand – I’ve had a day just as you describe. It’s been horrible and I’ve felt deficient as a parent. But tomorrow will be better, and if not, then the next day will. You’ll get there, we all will.

  • Sleep and how it lifts your mood « ghostwritermummy

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