Reflections
She called us monsters…
This happened 2 years ago, but the memory is still quite raw; like it happened yesterday. There are periods of the year that I am haunted by memories of my past, and this is now one of them. Very few people know about this experience, but it’s time I finally get it off my chest.
We took our second, ever, extended family vacation. We were all staying in one wood cabin; our little family of 3 with the, then, 8 month old baby and my in-laws - a family of 4 plus Nonna too. This was their first time at the campground DH and I frequently called home during summer and my first time venturing out, traveling, with postpartum anxiety… only a month and a half after starting treatment.
Not great timing although, with or without meds, this trip would have been high on my anxiety scale.
Every fiber of my being worried. My mind was scattered and my heart was racing. Not only were we all under one roof, but Nonna was also in the car with us – a total invasion of my personal bubble. I made sure to sit in the back with the LO so we could be in our own little world, and so that I could see her every second or the way there, but in such closed quarters there was no way to hide. I brought a book, but couldn’t get into it. I tried to sleep, but the voices in my head wouldn’t hush. I just kept trying to focus on the cabin at the end of the drive, and the chance to shut myself in a room and breathe… deeply.
But, while the cabin was 10 times the size of the SUV, the lack of privacy was just the same.
I pushed through the day, but by bedtime it was clear that I wasn’t the only one having a hard time. Our LO was not going to go down without a fight. She had never slept anywhere but in our arms or in her own bed before. Strange smells, country air, nature sounds… all familiar to us, but not to her. We tried to keep to her usual schedule to lessen the changes she would be faced with, but she cried and hollered nearly the whole night through. Behind closed doors we tried everything we could to keep her as quiet as can be - for her sake and our sanity as well. Her constant cries for help were breaking my heart! DH and I took turns to keep her in our arms, in our bed, pacing, rocking, singing, humming, you name it - anything to get 5 minutes of sleep a piece. We fed her, we changed her and we did it all over again anytime we thought it might help. The only thing we did not do was leave the safety of our bedroom because Nonna, my MIL, was just on the other side of that door on the pullout sofa. In all honesty, neither of us slept that night; in fact I doubt that anyone in that cabin did.
We came out of our room in a bit of a daze the next morning, and that is when I learned that she had said those words.
To this day, I get tears in my eyes when I think about it. How dare she?
The last thing I would do, EVER, even in the depths of my depression and anxiety would be to abandon my child and leave her to cry – all alone in a dark, strange and scary place! How could anyone think that I could possibly sleep through the shrieks and cries of my own flesh and blood in utter terror? But, none of that matters. I really don’t care what my MIL thinks of me; she knows nothing about me (even though she thinks she does) and she owes me nothing.
But, I wasn't the only one in that bedroom. Her son was there too, and what she said about US says a lot more about HER.
We haven't been able to attend weekly family dinners (yes, shoot me) as much lately, and this will continue for some time due to a hectic work/travel schedule and medical stuff coming up. Instead, we have been having my MIL over to our house on some of the weeks that we cannot make it to her. While part of that arrangement creates a huge internal struggle for me, another is hoping that one day she will actually see just how hard we both work at being the best parents we can be. But as for family vacations… we won’t be taking one of those anytime soon. I would rather save my money than lose myself in the toxicity. Constantly hearing that she means well just doesn’t cut it anymore.
This happened 2 years ago, but the memory is still quite raw; like it happened yesterday. There are periods of the year that I am haunted by memories of my past, and this is now one of them. Very few people know about this experience, but it’s time I finally get it off my chest.
We took our second, ever, extended family vacation. We were all staying in one wood cabin; our little family of 3 with the, then, 8 month old baby and my in-laws - a family of 4 plus Nonna too. This was their first time at the campground DH and I frequently called home during summer and my first time venturing out, traveling, with postpartum anxiety… only a month and a half after starting treatment.
Not great timing although, with or without meds, this trip would have been high on my anxiety scale.
Every fiber of my being worried. My mind was scattered and my heart was racing. Not only were we all under one roof, but Nonna was also in the car with us – a total invasion of my personal bubble. I made sure to sit in the back with the LO so we could be in our own little world, and so that I could see her every second or the way there, but in such closed quarters there was no way to hide. I brought a book, but couldn’t get into it. I tried to sleep, but the voices in my head wouldn’t hush. I just kept trying to focus on the cabin at the end of the drive, and the chance to shut myself in a room and breathe… deeply.
But, while the cabin was 10 times the size of the SUV, the lack of privacy was just the same.
I pushed through the day, but by bedtime it was clear that I wasn’t the only one having a hard time. Our LO was not going to go down without a fight. She had never slept anywhere but in our arms or in her own bed before. Strange smells, country air, nature sounds… all familiar to us, but not to her. We tried to keep to her usual schedule to lessen the changes she would be faced with, but she cried and hollered nearly the whole night through. Behind closed doors we tried everything we could to keep her as quiet as can be - for her sake and our sanity as well. Her constant cries for help were breaking my heart! DH and I took turns to keep her in our arms, in our bed, pacing, rocking, singing, humming, you name it - anything to get 5 minutes of sleep a piece. We fed her, we changed her and we did it all over again anytime we thought it might help. The only thing we did not do was leave the safety of our bedroom because Nonna, my MIL, was just on the other side of that door on the pullout sofa. In all honesty, neither of us slept that night; in fact I doubt that anyone in that cabin did.
We came out of our room in a bit of a daze the next morning, and that is when I learned that she had said those words.
“She called you monsters”.I am not sure I said anything at that point. I mean, I must have said something, but certainly not what was really on my mind. Between a lack of sleep, medication, and utter shock – I feel like my mind was racing but my lips probably couldn’t keep up. I was numb. I remember going for a walk around the campsite, with the LO strapped into her carrier tighter than ever before. I recall sitting on a large wooden swing, singing quietly to her while tears streamed down my face onto her little head. DH talked to me about it, before choosing to speak to his mother about it - alone. I couldn’t bear to look at her. Apparently she believed that we had just left our daughter in the playpen all night to cry it out! He actually had to explain to her that we would never, ever, do that. He tried to share their whole conversation with me but I refused to listen. To have to explain to your own mother that you are not, in fact, a monster simply angered me even more.
To this day, I get tears in my eyes when I think about it. How dare she?
The last thing I would do, EVER, even in the depths of my depression and anxiety would be to abandon my child and leave her to cry – all alone in a dark, strange and scary place! How could anyone think that I could possibly sleep through the shrieks and cries of my own flesh and blood in utter terror? But, none of that matters. I really don’t care what my MIL thinks of me; she knows nothing about me (even though she thinks she does) and she owes me nothing.
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