After having Oscar I didn’t leave the house properly for weeks – I’m not sure that most people would find that surprising. Not only is there the c-section recovery to deal with but there’s also a new tiny life who spends 99.9% of their time screaming while I spend 99.8% of the time not knowing why.
Granted, I’ve been fairly lazy post-recovery and am still spending much of the day in a dressing gown cuddling my baby but who the hell cares! Isn’t that what maternity leave is SUPPOSED to be about?
Why then, are my family being such bellends about the whole thing?
This week I’ve pretty much reached the end of my tolerance for the snide remarks and forceful opinions being thrust upon me. They seem to have it in their head that there must be something wrong; that I must be depressed or close to it. I assume they think this because I don’t want to spend every day hauling all of Oscar’s things over to their house to see them – this doesn’t make me depressed, this just means I have my own life now and my own little family and that maybe you could come here if you’re that concerned?
Some things I’m sick of hearing this week:
“Oh you’re still in your dressing gown?” Yes… yes I am. And in future I will ignore your Facetime calls if they are only going to serve as a quick way for you to judge me, my house or anything else you can see through the lens.
“I thought we were going to get you out of the house for a bit today?” No… YOU thought we were going to get me out of the house. I thought you were coming to spend non-judgmental time with me? And actually, Oscar has been screaming for 2 hours with teething pain, as you can hear because YOU ARE RIGHT NEXT TO HIM, and maybe now isn’t the best time for any of us to be trying to get me out for a coffee. Fucks sake.
“Go on…get out… it’ll do you some good” It will do me good? Or it will go some way to satisfy you that there’s nothing wrong with me and ease your own concerns? Because right now I would just like to sit and enjoy and cuddly nap with my baby, thanks.
It’s not like I was even a massive “going out” person before I had him. I’ve always been the type to mooch about on my sofa in a dressing gown watching box sets. So why now do they think I should be out all of the time? And, not that I should have to defend myself, this week we have been for a walk, gone on our first family picnic and gone to baby group/for a coffee with the bestie – I’m not really sure that counts as “never leaving the house”.
I swear to god if a member of my family ask me if I’m “coping OK” or if I’m “a bit overly teary a lot of the time” just once more I will implode.
YOU are the ones pissing me off – not being stuck in the house. I am not “stuck” anywhere – I am right where I want to be.
Also it’s quite clear that I don’t have PND and my other half is wonderful enough to ensure I got help if I did so stop making such a serious condition seem so trivial just because I want to sit and cuddle some days.
In short – Please fuck off, I am not depressed. I just have a baby. OK?
I’m linking up with MummyBarrow for Ranty Friday.
p.s. Fuck you Jamelia.