Motherhood

I still firmly believe that some women are meant to be (great) mothers. I am not one of them.

I have gotten through the hump of post-partum depression. During that time, when I would tell my inconsolable infant son that he would be better off with a different mother, I doubted my ability as a parent. These days, it’s not so much about my parenting skills, but my insufficient reserves of patience.

My kid is active. VERY active. If, in a few years, his pediatrician mentions testing for ADHD, I would not be surprised. In fact, I can already see a future of many visits to the Principal’s office and warning notes from his teachers. It’s not that I don’t love him - I adore him to bits - but I am so far the opposite end of his hyperactivity that it often overwhelms me.

So again, it’s not that I doubt my ability as a parent; I think I’m doing a pretty good job, actually. It’s just that I’m not convinced this is “what I’ve been waiting for all my life.”