I’m writing here, fully aware that I might face harsh criticism. I’m prepared for that. Still, I want readers to hear my confession and understand me. I simply lose control when my own child cries. But let me explain everything in detail.
I’ve been married for several years. We live well, with complete mutual understanding. We met by chance when I went to a store to buy a coffee machine. I love coffee so much; I can’t imagine a day without it. I saved up for months to buy a machine so I could make aromatic coffee at home. I went to the store looking for the right one, but at the time, I knew nothing about them. My future husband worked there as a consultant and offered his help. I immediately liked this friendly young man, and we started talking. He helped me choose a good coffee machine and suggested I try it out. I happily agreed. That’s how our relationship began.
We quickly realized we wanted to be together. For a while, we lived together in a rented apartment. My beloved wanted to buy a place with a mortgage, but it wasn’t possible right away. We decided to wait. Two years passed like that. During that time, my husband got the opportunity to buy an apartment, and he proposed to me, which I accepted. We decided not to have a big wedding. We agreed to just sign the papers, have a small celebration at a café, and save money for our future children.
To be honest, my husband desperately wanted kids, which is rare. Sure, many couples want children, but my husband talked about it day and night. He didn’t care whether we had a boy or a girl. When I found out I was pregnant, he was over the moon. My pregnancy was very tough; I suffered from morning sickness almost the entire time. I barely slept at night and couldn’t eat properly. My husband never left my side, always helping me. When my contractions started, he was at work but rushed to me as soon as I called.
The delivery was extremely difficult, and it took me a long time to recover. As soon as I started feeling a bit better, I began my struggle to breastfeed. You see, I’ve always believed that only a mother’s milk can keep a baby healthy and happy. Even though I’m a young mom, I don’t trust modern formulas or cereals. That struggle lasted two months. I tried everything to produce enough milk. I drank so much tea with milk and ate halva, as my friends suggested, but nothing worked. Our baby screamed day and night, barely sleeping. I couldn’t understand why. Then I expressed the little milk I had and saw it was almost transparent. That’s when I realized my poor baby wasn’t getting enough to eat.
I called a pediatrician, who advised me to feed the baby formula. As soon as I started giving him formula, he calmed down, became cheerful, and even slept well. Why didn’t I supplement earlier? My poor little boy was starving while I was trying to satisfy my own ambitions. I remember breastfeeding as pure hell. My nipples cracked, my poor baby sucked harder, but there was nothing there. Those two months of breastfeeding felt endless. In the final days, I found it so repulsive to breastfeed. I don’t know what was happening, but I cried and didn’t want to do it anymore. My baby probably sensed my mood, which is why he cried. And I couldn’t stand his crying. I’d start yelling at him and sobbing. But he didn’t calm down; he cried even harder. I couldn’t break the cycle of what was happening between us.
Then came the awful guilt for not breastfeeding him myself. I constantly felt like a bad mother, incapable of feeding her own son. On top of that, I read so many articles about the benefits of breastfeeding. Every time I opened the internet, there were stories about how natural feeding benefits the baby, while formula feeding leads to frequent illnesses. Then I read an article that said a real mother must breastfeed.
My baby is almost three months old now, and for the past month and a half, I’ve been feeding him formula. I love my little one so much; I can’t imagine life without him. Sometimes at night, I stand by his crib, watching him with my heart full of love. I think he’s the most beautiful and adorable baby in the world. But I absolutely can’t handle his crying. As soon as he starts crying, for any reason, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but when I hear his cries, an instinct kicks in, and I just want to lash out. I scare myself in those moments.
— Things are great with my husband; I couldn’t ask for better, — I’d say.
— Our intimate life? Even newlyweds would be jealous, — I’d add.
We have wonderful living conditions, our own apartment, a fantastic husband. You’d think I should just live and be happy, but something’s wrong. I know my baby isn’t to blame; he’s little and doesn’t do it on purpose. But I can’t control myself. I don’t know what to do with my aggression. Sometimes I might spank him or pull his leg. He gets scared and cries even harder. Then I hate myself, curse myself. I’m terrified that I could hurt my beloved child. What should I do?
I’m already trying to take calming medications, hoping they’ll help soften my aggression. Can you suggest a way out?
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