I Am The Parent. Beat It.

[Very angry post ahead. Read at your own risk.]

I snapped. Finally. After almost five months of motherhood, I snapped. I wonder what took me this long, but I’ve decided that I’ve had enough and it’s time to say something.

So, what might have incurred my wrath? Well, plenty of parenting crap that some people have decided to dish out ever so generously. And no, I have never asked for advice from these people, that is very much unsolicited, thank you very much.

Yes, I chose breastfeeding. I’m not saying that giving formula milk is the easy way out; there are plenty of difficulties with giving formula milk too and I know that from my friends and some relatives. Having been presented both options, I chose breastfeeding and MY set of difficulties. I am not against formula milk (I was breastfed for a month and went on formula milk thereafter), but I thought if I have a go at it, succeed and can breastfeed for as long as I can, save some money, go without the hassle of milk preparation and washing of bottles, then why not? If I don’t question your choice, please don’t question mine. Let’s respect the boundaries.

Please also don’t blame every single difficulty my daughter presents on me. I’m turning to you for support and I tell you my worries because I trust you, not for you to point fingers at me. I just need a listening ear, and a shoulder to cry on. I may not be the perfect mother but I’d like to think that I bathe and feed and teach and put her down for naps and bedtime just fine. Yes, she has stopped sleeping through the night, but that is physiological, not pathophysiological. She has reached all her developmental milestones. She’s healthy and happy even though she cries sometimes. Now, which baby doesn’t? Show me a baby that doesn’t cry AT ALL, and I would kiss your ass. I would. Remember that I am her mother. I love her more than you love her. If you think you would give her the best of care, I would give her something even better. KNOW that.

We are all parents. You should know that raising a child makes for a very long and hard, yet rewarding road. We shouldn’t be going around telling people what they should or shouldn’t do. We shouldn’t be comparing babies because babies are different, so please don’t tell me things like, ‘See, that baby is being taken care of that way, so she’s doing much better than your daughter and sleeping so well. You are obviously the source of the problem’. We should be on the same side. I have turned to some really dependable mummy friends who were and still are my rocks. They tell me they know how hard it is, and gently suggest ways that worked for them when they were tearing their hair out over their babies. But in doing so, unless I’m endangering my daughter’s life (which I haven’t), they know not to question my methods and they know not to blame the unpredictable nature of my daughter (and I repeat, this is not unique to my baby, it is the nature of ALL babies) on me. They know that I’m trying my darndest. Do you? I guess you don’t. That’s why you spout things that made me feel so bad about myself, and maybe you do that to make you feel good about yourself (yes, that’s the bitch talking).

But guess what? I don’t feel bad now. Five months on, I have grown from being a complete noob of a mother to one who knows my daughter inside out. No one knows her better, not her father, not her paediatrician, and most definitely, not you. Because I know my daughter that well (oh really, this surprises you, huh?!), I say BEAT IT, people, take your sorry asses, blame-everyone-but-yourself-attitude and go back to your caves. Or even better, out of my sight.

[Over and out]

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Read on for my new journey as a mother and for my thoughts on love and marriage.

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