I feel guilty for dragging my then 5 month old son across the country, once because I thought we would have a better life out west, and a second time only months later because I discovered moving away was not the answer to my problems.
I feel guilty for weaning him at 6 months, not seeking help and learning about the dynamics of breastfeeding during pregnancy, thinking that weaning him completely would "make things easier" because I had picked up a job in the evenings.
I feel guilty for having another baby so soon after having my first.
I feel guilty because my second child is, in my mind a witness to my crimes of infidelity. I was 5 months pregnant when that all went down.
I feel guilty for not quitting smoking with my first child, and not quitting with my second until I was well into the second trimester. But at least I've finally quit.
I feel guilty about the first night I ever spent as a mother with my firstborn, sitting in a dark hospital room trying desperately to nurse him, even though he was getting frustrated because the drugs made him so sleepy and uncoordinated he just couldn't latch on. He screamed and cried, and so did I. But once again I never asked for help. When a nurse came around 5am to check on me, she asked if I wanted her to take him to the nursery and give him a bottle. I was so exhausted and defeated I said yes.
...there's more I just can't think of it right now
I feel guilty for weaning him at 6 months, not seeking help and learning about the dynamics of breastfeeding during pregnancy, thinking that weaning him completely would "make things easier" because I had picked up a job in the evenings.
I feel guilty for having another baby so soon after having my first.
I feel guilty because my second child is, in my mind a witness to my crimes of infidelity. I was 5 months pregnant when that all went down.
I feel guilty for not quitting smoking with my first child, and not quitting with my second until I was well into the second trimester. But at least I've finally quit.
I feel guilty about the first night I ever spent as a mother with my firstborn, sitting in a dark hospital room trying desperately to nurse him, even though he was getting frustrated because the drugs made him so sleepy and uncoordinated he just couldn't latch on. He screamed and cried, and so did I. But once again I never asked for help. When a nurse came around 5am to check on me, she asked if I wanted her to take him to the nursery and give him a bottle. I was so exhausted and defeated I said yes.
...there's more I just can't think of it right now







: ) in anger







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