you are crying after having fed for two or three hours and then fussed.
you were on my chest now leanne is feeding you your second bottle in two hours and i had three breasts in about two hours.
i sing toora loora loora but not loud enough over your cries; i remember my grandpa’s deep breath singing the same but at least it could calm me or so i remember.
unfit
doing the laundry while lucy sleeps upstairs unattended, i start to strike bargains in my head before i forget that i cannot do so. let me swap the job of mother for the laundry! but i am the only person in the world who can fulfill the role of biological mother for lucy. there is no turning in the job title. though i am lucky i have leanne who is also a mother – most people only have one – and would be aghast to think that lucy would someday know that i had considered myself unworthy enough to turn in the job title.
i’m terrified that i feel this way that i’m somehow unfit or unwanting to be a good mother – terrified that it is true and that lucy will know. when i think she looks at me and cries or i can’t comfort her as well as others, and dr swan says ‘that’s because she feels safe with you’ – i buy the line to make me feel better but later feel silly because it was just a line she probably uses often.
i want lucy to grow up with more self-esteem and i see that in my mind’s eye, yet i also thought she’d be a calm baby so i obviously don’t know. i want her to be confident in the world and am scared i won’t be around to see it.
lucy falls asleep only with formula.
tear apart
leanne just hid her email from me when i accidentally came up behind her. i feel like i am completely interdependent upon her and yet she was obviously violated by my presence. i was tired and hungry all day running around – when i am actually quite exhausted and feel like i should be lying down when not feeding lucy.
lucy – you cried like you were going to tear apart from the inside today. your hands were up on either side of your face, clenched into fists and scratching your delicate cheeks. when evanescence came on to sing ‘my immortal’ amy’s soaring voice calmed you down; i thought – if i had a voice like an angel, would you forgive me? i can’t sing to you to make it stop; i can’t rock you in the right way or make the right cooing sounds to help you stop crying; i can’t interpret you to know why you are hurting; i can’t seem to make it better.
Moya Watson 