Now that we would have a second baby, I was going to deeper, or different, into this land of motherhood. I was not looking forward to being on the road for 9 months again, but hoped for the best.
And although there was no all-day-morning-sickness, it was still not all that good. So here I was again, depressed for 9 months. This time I could not survive on movies and naps because Abel was not a big fan of those, or that life style.
Not all was sad though.
This trip had it’s exciting and jolly moments as well. I loved going for walks and giving hugs and kisses. I loved seeing him learn new things and start laughing with jokes.
I was just finding it hard to find myself. I had expected to love being a mom. To find myself once I arrived in this place. To find the best possible version of myself. I expected it to be the fullfilment of all of my dreams and I thought I was very ready for this. Fully trained and fully prepaired.
Instead, I couldn’t seem to find myself at all. I had left myself behind, at home. This person, she was a different person.
And the hotel I had stayed at the first months had been traded in for a little?appartment in the middle of the city. All of the glitter and glamour had gone, and with it the triumphant music you always have in movies.
Everything I had expected to love about motherhood, I discovered I actually greatly disliked. I disliked reading boring children’s books in which the main plot is Bobby kicking a ball to Freddy. I disliked coming home from beautiful walks and being to tired to lift a little boy out of the buggy when I came home. I disliked staying home with him, because I got bored and lonely. I disliked putting him in and out of the car because everything ached when I did it. I disliked the everlasting dirty windows and dishes and trying to cook with a big belly and a little boy getting in the way, while also trying to stay awake during the daytime, and trying to fall asleep at night.
This country was not what I wanted it to be, and this whole mom thing was getting old real fast.
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