We’ve all heard it before. You tell someone your feelings and someone’s immediate response is “someone always has it worse“. I am not arguing that people experiences are different on this planet and people do in fact have it worse. However…. they are not you. They are not living your life, someone else’s experiences being worse does not effect your emotions. You are entitled to your feelings as they are not living your life. Every emotion you have is valid. You do not need to see things in a light where things are worse and be positive. It is not healthy.
When your feeling sad you do not need to feel how others have it worse like you’re not aloud to complain. Of course you’re aloud to complain let it out! Keeping emotions in is hard and also more upsetting. Let it out. If you hear someone say but someone has it worth. Just day I understand that but this is my life and my feelings are valid.
Growing up I was always told someone had it worse. Normally compared to African children starving or children being abused at home. Which is a wildly different scenario to saying I’m upset about something. You’re not going to become a desensitised robot and feel instantly better because someone told you you should be grateful for not having things worse.
Our emotions are different to others. Some of us feel things way worse than others and that’s okay. It’s part of who we are, our personality. Never feel that your opinions and emotions are worth less than anyone else’s. If you need help or want to talk to someone don’t be afraid to! It is the most natural thing talking about our feelings and more people should be more willing to both share and listen.
As always I’m always here if anyone needs a chat. Charlie x
Something I’d never thought I’d have is guilt for is having me time. As Elijah gets older his grandparents want him for the day more and it also gives me a little bit of a break to recharge. Although I need the time to destress, breath and normally clean the house there is always a element of guilt. I’m unsure why I feel guilty he’s having fun with family and he’s always asking do go to his nanny’s and grandads houses.
I think mainly it comes from other mothers complaining they don’t get a break ever. I feel bad for those mothers who never get a break as it can be quite healthy to have some me time and your child be it’s own person elsewhere too. It’s different then when you work and child has to be looked after but if I’m just sitting there having a cup of tea or catching up with friends I feel guilty. I also feel guilty because I feel like a bad mum, I feel like I’m abandoning him.
The days leading up till him going elsewhere I’m like bon voyage! See you soon! Especially when he’s on the floor rolling around because I won’t share a kit kat with him. But on the day he’s gone when I’ve woken and he has gone with his dad to his nanny’s I feel quite empty and out of place. I wonder if I’m a bad mum for sending him away does he think I don’t love him? Then I remember it’s silly to think these things and he is perfectly okay and always comes back trying to tell me what he’s done today! I think there’s a bit of stigma too to expect a child to be secured to your hip 24/7 when you can never be your own person anymore. You’re expected to give up every minute of your life having a child. It’s good to have time off because it allows you to be yourself again outside of a mum capacity even if you’re slobbed out on sofa with a cup of tea watching friends.
Possible trigger…I missed my own child’s birth, yes he came from inside of me but I missed it. I’m not being dramatic or anything like that but I was put to sleep so I missed my own child’s birth. Something I will never get over. A bit of back story…
When I was pregnant I didn’t feel my baby move much. He would have quiet days and I’d be constantly up hospital. It wasn’t until I was 35 weeks pregnant when they decided to give me a scan and locate that the baby was breech. I had a appointment to have something called a turn of the baby inside of me which didn’t work and was the worse pain of my life. So I had no choice but to have a c-section because of how the gremlin was laying. 3 weeks later would be the day he would be born and I would become a mother when I was booked in for surgery. On the day I remember being exhausted from excitement but also I had spent weeks feeling something would go wrong. I was right.
Being prepped for surgery was eventful the staff put a massive ass cannula in me after several attempts and wheeled me in to theatre. I remember thinking the theatre looked a bit boring and like a normal room. The theatres I had worked in had no windows and no outdated machinery. None the less I sat on the bed. I was told not to move while a massive needle was inserted into my back. They do not tell you how much this will hurt. I don’t think the trainee got the placement right to this day. I layed on the bed and meds given to send my body to sleep below the stomach. Although I couldn’t move my legs I could still feel my stomach. They rubbed ice on my tummy and they used needles to feel for pain. I alerted them several times I could still feel the cold of the ice and the prick of the needles. Surgeons being surgeons kind of ignored me. My husband was a bit worried for me when I looked scared as anything holding his hand with wires attached to me everywhere getting in the way.
Then they cut me. I can still remember now the screaming as I felt it. They knew immediately something was not right and that the medication had not worked. I was to miss my own childs birth because it was too late to try putting the needles back in my back as I was open on the table. My husband was pulled from the room and I remember the mask being lifted on to my face and loosing consciousness . I missed my child being born and others met and held my child before me.
I remember coming round. I remember coming round by choking for air as I had a saw throat from the breathing equipment inserted into my airways which had been taken out and then shivering with pain as my stomach was in unbearable pain from surgery and coughing was pulling at it. I was given water and woke up alone. Without my baby. I remembered that I had been pregnant but I thought it was a dream. I thought I had been in a terrible car accident and that I was not really pregnant. The drugs where so strong I didn’t realise my son had been brought in the room to meet me and told my husband it wasn’t the time to bring in blankets. Then it came back to me when I was brought down to my room and I started to come round more. I met my son but at first I didn’t have that immediate rush of love. How was I supposed to know he was really mine? I remember thinking he was too beautiful to be mine. I remember feeling robbed and I think it caused me to struggle to accept I was a mother because I had missed the birth. After drugs had worn it and time had passed my love started to grow and I could see bits of me and his dad in him as I stared down into his eyes.
I’m always jealous now of mothers who witnessed their birth. I’m always sad when people say they had traumatic births and still got to see their baby born and that love that comes with it. I’m not downplaying others emotions or their experiences because I like to think if I was in that situation I would struggle to but I always find it so hard to see others not feeling lucky they witnessed their own children’s births. To see other people’s reactions when the baby comes out. To hear the first cry. To share the first touch, to see them first. Instead wait a hour to meet him and my mum and husband had seen him and changed him, had held him and loved him first. Maybe one day I’ll get over it but for now it’s still fresh and I still long for seeing that moment when he was born. When people say to have a section is the easy way out I want to scream in their face because it’s not. The feeling of not seeing your baby born and struggling to bond as they are born in a unnatural way to not be able to move to hold them straight away and to be in pain for weeks/ months even years after isn’t and never will be the easy way.