I don’t know why this takes more balls to admit than admitting that I might be a bad wife or daughter or employee or whatever. I am talking about being a bad mum. Part of me wishes it is exhaustion and boredom talking, and that it will subside soon. But another part of me knows that I have been faltering in many ways when it comes to being Anushka’s primary caretaker. Her TV time is out of control. Her meal times are haywire. She has been unwell of late and here’s the kicker: last night when she was burning with fever, all I needed was for her to go back to sleep so I could go to sleep. I just needed the night. I didn’t want to deal with anything in that moment. This morning, I’m being hit with a special kind of guilt. Maybe this public admission is also my selfish way of seeking a few words of support, but right now, my child needs support. Other than me. Despite me claiming to be there all the time.
In the journey of motherhood with its relentless cycle of crests and troughs, this is undeniably a low.