Walking Away (and Mommy Guilt)

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Before I had a little one I thought the reports I heard on the news about people shaking or otherwise harming their baby were crazy. Actually, I thought the adults in those scenarios were. I mean, seriously, how could you think, much less do, something so awful to your gorgeous, precious, helpless little one. Really…

They were crazy, until yesterday.

Yesterday was a tough one. Ewan was up much of the night and he had one episode about 30 minutes long of inconsolable crying. The next day was some of the same, a 45 minute stretch of all.out.crying. Screaming. Back arching.

He is generally such a good natured little guy that this type of crying has been rare. Really rare. Like, I can count how many times this has happened on one hand rare. I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so rare, or because I’m just not built for it, but I can’t handle the crying. The crying that doesn’t stop. The crying that I can’t solve.

In the middle of the night we tag team. I take Ewan for a bit, when I find myself getting frustrated or edgy, I hand him off. Aaron takes him and does the same. We swap. We keep each other fresh. But when I’m home alone during the day, there is no one to swap with. No one to help keep me fresh.

Ewan cried. I tried everything. Nursing. Dancing. Sling. Food. Water. Everything. My bag of tricks was exhausted, I was exhausted, and the crying continued.

More than 35 minutes in, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to walk away. I had to put him down. I had to because I knew I was getting to the edge, nearing my limit. I knew I had the capacity, the awful capacity, to harm this little one if I didn’t walk away and clear my head.

So I walked away.

I put him in his bed. I closed the door. I turned off the baby monitor and I walked away. I did some dishes. I knit a few rows. I sipped some water. I could hear his muffled cries, but I didn’t go to him. I couldn’t.

But then after a few minutes, I was feeling refreshed and renewed. I had a few more ideas and I was ready to take it on again. I went back to him.

Eventually, after about 15 minutes more he calmed. It took a brief phone conversation with Aaron and the suggestion of a cool washcloth (why didn’t I think of that?!).

The crying had stopped, the episode had passed, but my guilt had just begun.

How could I walk away when my babe was obviously hurting and needing me?

How could I think, think, about harming him?

How could I?

How could I?

How could I?

I’m still trying to let go of the guilt. Still trying to forgive myself for not having an unending well of patience, for doing what I knew was best for him at that moment. Putting him in a safe place while I got myself back to a space where I could deal.

If I did what was best, why do I still have the nagging feeling like it was wrong? Why does the guilt linger?

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  • http://www.andanotherthing.typepad.com Betsie

    (((hugs))) There is nothing wrong with what you did. It’s like the old analogy of putting the oxygen mask on yourself first and then helping those that need help. You needed a little break to clear your head and pull yourself together. When you did you came back and ended up being able to help him. Trust me (even though you don’t know me!) after 5 kids, that break is sometimes the most necessary thing in the world. All 5 of my kids are happy, healthy, well adjusted and have not been harmed. Mainly because I took the break, called the friend, knit the stitches, breathed the breaths, whatever I needed to get myself back in the trenches so I could be the mom my kids needed. You’re a great mom and you did the right thing.

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  • Virginia

    Parenting is such a humbling experience. You find you are not as good as you thought you were. (dark, angry feelings) You are not as knowledgeable as you thought you were. (what is his problem, what do I do about it, why didn’t I see that) You will do things you criticized other parents for doing (when you were childless, and clueless) And despite your very best intentions, you will make mistakes in caring for your child. We all do. Some of these mistakes you won’t even realize until much later. When they tell you in anger.
    But being a mom is as much about learning to love yourself as your child. It’s about learning about your own limits and needs, and balancing them with your child’s. The compromise, like all compromises, will sadden you for what it lacks, for what you couldn’t supply. But it is as necessary as the crisis is inevitable. It is the reality life forces us to examine. You chose the best option under the circumstances. It won’t make you happy, but there is no need to feel guilty for being human. You learned more about yourself, and that is always good for the child.

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  • Ella

    I don’t know anything about being a mother because I am not one. Having said that, what you did seems to me to be the only sane thing to do in that situation. I’m sure that Ewan could sense your rising frustration with him and feeling anger coming from the people we depend on for comfort is never helpful. By putting him down for a few minutes you were able to stop your feelings from making the situation worse and adding fear to whatever other causes were behind his crying. And you went back to him. That seems important to me. You didn’t leave him there to cry himself to sleep. You didn’t leave him in an unsafe place. You didn’t do him any harm. You just took a few minutes to collect yourself before going back to him. I think that recognizing when you need to do that is an important skill in life, and it appears from the other comments that it’s also an important skill in parenting, however painful it may be to learn.
    You are a great mom!

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