I wrote a poem today to get these thoughts out of my head. Its not perfect but I call it :

PostPartum Problems

I have all these grand plans A mind full of what ifs A pinterest full of the prettiest pics A weakness for "if only" An unwaivering belief If i could just get my house set up straight that everything else in life falls in place A constant need to move and rearrange. Furniture, tupperware, and buy more of the same. A perfect nest I want to create. Someplace clean and warm, its gonna always smell great.

Most days though I just sit and observe this chaos around me is loud and absurd.

I get sweaty and shaky and anxious and mad. I rage and snipe and make everyone sad.

its directed at me but comes out uninvited, and anyone listening feels savagely spited.

I try each day to be patient and quiet. 30 minutes in and Im seething despite it. The same mess appears day after day, no matter how often i wipe it away.

Litfer box, bathroom, laundry and dishes Floors, table,highchair, Bedding, microwave, fridges.

I cant stay on top when the cycle keeps spinning. No time to eat and no clean dishes to eat with.

Bottles need washed and sterilized too, at some point I also could use a shampoo.

I look around and feel totally helpless. I dont know where to start when the end doesnt exist.

Grit under feet makes me feel wreckless, i slam things around or zone out from my checklist.

Someday the baby wont need supervision or two naps a day or pureed provisions.

Someday the grammar honework will need no revision And unexpected company will be a welcome addition

But right now even family feels like imposition. If they offer help its on their conditions

I should just be thankful they show up at all, but I see all the mess and imagine instead how much they judge me inside their own head.

So Ill smile and joke and be pleasantly delighted when they point out more things that need wiped up or tidied." Oh no the lightbulb covers need to be cleaned? There is a dead ladybug in there?! My god how obscene!"

"The house would be so much cleaner you see, if youll simply agree to just stop buying things that you clearly dont need" Now here, take these boxes of keepsakes please, find somewhere to put them and whatever you do, do not get rid of them, they were your dads in grade 2"

Well meaning they offer advice uninvited. More welcomed would be just a respite in silence.

Someday I will have time for myself to be who I am without all this self doubt.

The feelings of guilt and frustration run deep. Mostly I sit and regret while the baby sleeps.

Awake in what feels like a prison of grief. For all that I had hoped young motherhood would be, most of it now I see was a dream.

Still, Im greatful I am, but something is missing.

I think of my day and the meanningless chores. Only noticed or discussed when they've been ignored.

Years upon years spent vacuuming and bored.

None of it matters i think as I sigh. But that nagging voice inside answers back "thats a lie"

It matters, it does, but it matters too much.

All this junk and clutter, just too much stuff.

I want sunshine and beach air and a giant campfire. Veggies and salad and time in the kitchen.

Not over the sink but with friends over visiting.

As soon as I think this I feel it inside. That same little voice "youre a total disaster the mess needs to hide"

So i grab my broom and start furiously sweeping, all the while berated with baby shreiking.

One day if i try hard i might get a chance to live life same as the others and be deserving of it.

But right now the couch is covered in clothes. Only half folded and with nowhere to go.

I cant even focus on one task at a time with a baby who's crying is piercing my mind.

If only she would just go to sleep, overtired and cranky and teething im sure. But she wont nap for me she really insists. Instead she throws a total fit.

I swaddle and pat her just like her dad does. No use at all its just not the same. She hates me I think. Then I feel insane.

So all my grand plans and cleaning must wait. First we survive then we rearrange plates.

But the problem is bigger then just that you see. The problem is internal and living in me.

I stopped posting pictures or going outside. In crowded stores I feel followed and just want to hide.

I scurry along and forget to breathe. Honestly I even forget my own needs. I dont know the last time I brushed my own teeth.

I dont know my waiste size or which shirts to buy. I try on clothes and just want to cry. The size of my thighs seem bigger then life. I cant get things to zipper, nothing fits right.

Ill buy dishtowels instead, or a glittery light. Just kidding, ill just admire the sight.

I cant focus on movies or sit and relax. There is no peace when the house is trashed.

I just need some help, some kindness,sunlight. But the next 3 days are rain and will end in a fight. Because asking is hard and just proves im unfit. I should have asked different or just stop being a b****.

I wish I was different, successful, clean. I wish I could focus on just one thing.

And while I sit here wishing away the day, the housework sits too and just waits for me.

I should enjoy this time with my little baby. So forget the dishes, SIt under a tree.

Its nice for 3 minutes before she decides time for a bottle and I realize

they are still in the sink they never got cleaned. Another point against, in this internal debate. One more thing I must add to my plate.

A plate made of paper and strained by the weight. An uncomfortable feeling but it will not break. Bend? Sure, a little. Some tasks will fall off. But at the end of the day, most things rinse off.

Always in motion but never complete. A labor of love and not for the weak. Motherhood is truly the best gift of all. But the shoes to be walked in are big, not small.

that's all.

💕SV