Do you know what is the hardest part of motherhood?
That one cannot escape from it.
It doesn't matter how tired you are or how much you haven't slept.
Don't give a damn what bothers you - in the head and in the body.
No one is interested in your mood or its absence.
He cried - you got up, dropped everything and went to be a mother. Point.
Even then, when I was preparing to become a mother for the first time, I didn’t take care of buying clothes for an unborn child, not choosing the perfect crib and stroller, not looking at rattles and teething toys, but searching for literature on the topic of motherhood, pregnancy, breastfeeding and other things. , which is related to the theme of children and their upbringing. And to this day I do not stop looking for and reading books on all the topics around the home and around the parents. Therefore, my review of this book - "Mom at Zero" - will be very, very subjective in the light of the fact that for me this is far from the first, and not even the tenth "instruction" on motherhood.
Much that I met in this text, I have ever read either on the Internet or from other authors, so I could not avoid a certain feeling of de-ja-vu, but nevertheless, as a kind of "ambulance" for a tired mother, this the collection is just wonderful. The authors, with their articles, try to console and calm the bewildered, often misunderstood by others, tortured young woman who in an instant took and turned from just a person into a person who MUST all the time. Moreover, the mother owes it all the time, we do not have weekends and holidays, we do not have evening rest and planned vacations. We have no hope of exhaling, unless one of the relatives will bless the mother with the opportunity to be alone with herself for at least a couple of hours (God forbid, if a couple ...), taking the baby for a walk. Mom is always on, responsible and obliged.
It seems to me that it is precisely from this despair and fatigue, from the impossibility of "running away" for at least an hour or two, from the feeling that this will never end, that women go out the window ...
Do not believe those who tell you that you are not doing anything, but just "sit at home." Motherhood is a job, both physical and emotional. This is tension, a huge responsibility, and at times - being involved 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is exhausting, especially if there is no help and support.
It is in the modern world, when a mother stays with her child literally one by one for two years at least without help (even moral support) from someone who is nearby, without another adult responsible for the child (yes, there is a father, but the father spends most of his time at work and sees the baby at most 3-4 hours a day), such a book is very, very relevant! Mothers needed it and it was created by a team of authors, dividing the content into parts, each of which tells about something important and useful: there are stories from the life of mothers and fathers, there is a psychological characteristic of postpartum depression and maternal burnout, there are advice from psychologists, ways to relax , information on the organization of sleep (joint or separate), a selection of cozy films and thematic books.
In general, the whole book "Mom at Zero" is a kind of compilation of Internet articles (as it seems to me), united under a common heading. And for me personally, it just seemed inappropriate. Each author writes in his own way, some places contradict each other, and sometimes, on the contrary, are repeated. The stories given in the first part seemed to me too "going to extremes", but perhaps this was chosen on purpose, in order to identify the most difficult and even sometimes terrible situations in the lives of young mothers. I liked the part from Lyudmila Petranovskaya, but I read many of her articles and books ("If it is difficult with a child" and "Secret support"), so I did not learn anything new except her personal experience.
As for the rest, there was little useful information - I just wrote out a few good quotes for myself. The book can just be useful as a support for the mother (which is also not bad, of course), but I liked the book of the mother of 4 children, which I read a year ago, much more in many respects Olga Valyaeva "Purpose to be a mother"- it has everything on the same topic, but much less water (although, it would seem, the volume is huge - but it is really justified by valuable and useful information!), there are stories and historical prerequisites for the difficulties of motherhood in modern Russia, and mother's support, and advice on parenting and child psychology - all in the context of taking care of mom and with the motto "Mom is happy - everyone is happy!"
Semi-humorous sketches and tips are also great for raising mom's self-esteem and soothing her nerves a little. Nadia Papudoglo and Anna Bykova- books, albeit imperfect, but perfect for modern mothers and for a pleasant evening reading a couple of times.
May I recommend reading the book "Mom at Zero"? More likely yes than no, especially if you do not yet have a large reader's baggage on this topic in your bins, then this book will definitely not be superfluous! I myself am very glad that I slowed down and did not buy a book in paper (it is still very expensive ...), but read it in electronic form, although when I saw a novelty with such a name so close to me, my soul immediately reached out to read the stories of "comrades in happiness "and calm down a little. I really got support! And the money remained intact at the same time)) Thanks to the authors for the idea and implementation! However, I hope such literature will continue to be published, but in a more detailed and thorough manner.
#whyNeedChildren
Girls, not for the sake of holivar, but in all honesty: do all of you, without exception, experience happiness from having children and have never regretted it?
I have twins, six months, it's hellishly difficult, and I don't feel any double happiness. In general, I never really wanted children, everyone told me: "What are you, children - this is such happiness, such emotions!" I was led to these "emotions", I decided to get pregnant. And now every day I ask myself: why ?! Why did I (that is, we) do this ?! You can't put it back in and, like a cat, you won't give it to anyone ... At the same time, the feeling that my husband and I had fiercely fucked up, since before the birth of children we lived happier than after. Sorry if I was shocked. It is not customary for us to discuss this ...
(post on Facebook, 800 comments)
There are days
There are days when I feel like opening a window and yelling at the top of my lungs.
Or throw everything around on the floor and trample underfoot.
Grab the pillow and gut it.
Smash dishes or break cabinets.
But then I just look at the mess that was left after the Silent Day, and it seems that there is already enough. You can also drink some tea.
When the child finally fell asleep
When the child finally fell asleep, the main thing is to stay calm and not rush headlong around the house with goggled eyes, trying to realize all his desires and make up for everything lost in the day. You just have to honestly admit that it is impossible to remove all this horror in the style of "just came Seryozha" in two hours, do exercises, manicure, pedicure, take a shower, dry your hair, make a face mask, rub yourself with a scrub, eat a cutlet that has been waiting for lunch and a new arrival cake, post interviews, update working social networks, read a book, write a book and a couple of dozen more necessary and enjoyable things to do.
But you can sleep well.
And write to Facebook.
First time in many months
For the first time in many months I went down the subway. The first impulse is to start begging passengers for money for a nanny in a plaintive voice, staggering around the carriages with a photograph of the offspring. Barely pulled herself together. Tears came at the sight of people. From being able to calmly stand at the rail almost came an orgasm. Nobody crawled, grabbed the leg, cried or gnawed their fingers. Strange and beautiful. For an hour and a half outside the house, no one tried to pull my hair out of my withered head! I didn’t regurgitate on a suede boot. Isn't this happiness ?! Apparently, I look wild and completely deplorable - the men twice gave way. Where were they, one asks, when I drove a pregnant belly to work?
Under the covers, roar and scream
You have to do a lot, decide, walk, negotiate, come up with something, find out. And I want to get under the covers, roar and shout from there: “Don't touch me! I don’t want to decide anything anymore, I give up. Let Sasha grow up even as a janitor, his Hebrew is quite enough to be a janitor, just don't touch me and don't force me to decide anything else. I'm over. "
Silence
Over the years of non-stop motherhood, I have learned a lot about scarcity. A lack of various resources: freedom to manage my time, body and thoughts, rest and sleep, work and practice, money and travel ... But the main problem for me was the lack of silence.
Silence. The time when I am just me, outside the role of mother, wife or anything else. The time when I myself choose what to do. When my attention is directed inward, I feel my breath, my body, I can meditate, calmly listen to my thoughts, get insight, feel like a part of the universe and turn to higher forces. When I stop and find that some of my standard ways of doing things are outdated, ineffective, or just “not mine”. From the silence, I gather strength for the next march. In silence, I don’t have to strain my mind all the time, talking, answering questions, planning the day, solving problems, being constantly engaged and ready. Silence for me is rest and buzz, value, "gingerbread", relaxation.
6:16
Today I woke up in a very strange way - at the same time someone stepped on my head and someone fell to my feet. But the most unpleasant thing about this was that the clock showed 6 hours 16 minutes.
When I complained that 6:16 was not the right time to get up, I didn't mean any other. Only later, damn it! 5:24 is even worse.
- Eric, damn it! Well, it's impossible to get up so early!
“Perhaps Mommy. Nothing is impossible.
I'm angry. But she herself is to blame: it is necessary to formulate requests more clearly.
Was twice a killer robot
Working from home with two children, one of whom sits on the inhaler for the second day, can only be briefly described as monkey labor. During the day I cleaned the room and the kitchen (from the state of "after the bombing"), washed the floors everywhere (+ bath and corridor), cooked breakfast, lunch, dinner, washed the kitchen again after breakfast and lunch (after dinner, I have not been honored yet), washed all the plumbing, then the youngest child found somewhere a jar of finger paints (and I thought they had run out), washed the plumbing again, and also washed the pillow and blanket. In between, I read books, was twice a killer robot and once a droid, listened to Eric read what the speech therapist gave (it would be better if I were a killer robot again), listened to Adele singing, and sang along at her request (well, you understood about the robot, right?).
And according to the official version, I sit and work, and at the same time, it’s much easier for me to work than for the rest, because I don’t even spend any energy or time on the road.
Alisa Veremeenko, Ekaterina Suvorova, Daria Yausheva, Yulia Sianto, Olga Korovyakova, Alina Farkash, Stepanida Maltseva, Victoria Lemesheva, Olga Karchevskaya, Anna Bolotova, another Anna, Liza and many others who happened to become a killer robot, dream of silence, want to hide under the covers, go out in public for the first time in several months, and when the child finally fell asleep - write on Facebook about
how bad it was on the side of motherhood that no one warned about,
what is not customary to talk about,
from where you want to run back,
when all this was not,
and where none of them suspected that being a mother -
this means
find yourself again.
In this book, paths intersect, dark and light meet, here they cry and laugh, look for answers to questions that have remained unanswered many times.
Why does parenting become an imprisonment?
Why don't loved ones want to hear?
Whom to ask for help when no one is around?
How not to scream when you feel like screaming?
How to get yourself back?
And will there be happiness? Then, then, at the end of all the tests, will there be a happy ending?
Lyudmila Petranovskaya, Irina Mlodik, Ekaterina Burmistrova, Pavel Lebedko, Daria Utkina, Galina Filippova, Elena Muradova, Yulia Burlakova,
experts and also parents,
everyone was there
on the side of motherhood that no one warned about,
and this book will help you not to get lost,
smile,
breathe,
believe in yourself.
Anastasia Izyumskaya and Anna Kuusmaa,
journalists who called all the heroes to an open conversation,
Children are pissed off, cooking is abandoned, and any effort on oneself causes tears. I want to hide in a corner and not touch anyone. Most likely, you burned out “at work”, because in order to be a loving and understanding mother, you need to have a resource.
razvitie-krohi.ru
For the first time, they began to talk about emotional burnout in relation to representatives of helping professions (nannies, doctors, teachers), whose daily practice requires high energy costs.
But, as it turned out, this phenomenon is unprofessional, and today psychologists are increasingly warning about the emotional burnout of parents - those who are tired of being an eternal source of inspiration for their own children.
Love is like a house of cards
At the initial stage of burnout, chronic fatigue, unwillingness to act, high irritability and sleep problems can be attributed to a difficult life period, bad weather and health problems.
Because if she wants, taking herself in hand, mom can organize the children, cook food, clean up, work with a bang and not get tired.
The problem is that the world created around this time is a props.
Outside there is a picture, but inside it is empty, there is neither strength nor energy. Everyday life, routine, a series of unsolved problems, petty quarrels with family and children - all this, like a snowball, accumulates, overstretching the rubber of patience.
www.fms.org.il
Pants smeared by a child during a walk or sleep sabotage make the once-kind mother break down and yell.
And then feel a tremendous sense of guilt mixed with anger at the one who exposed this feeling in her.
But it is worth starting to get enough sleep, rest properly, replenish resources - and life begins to play with all colors again.
When mom is at zero
Now, if mom has rested, but the thought is still spinning in her head, "that's it, I can't take it anymore!" - welcome to the second phase, asthenic, the stage of non-continence.
absalam.com.kz
Thoughts, problems that need to be solved are constantly spinning in my head. Fragments of phrases and conversations make it difficult to fall asleep, and waking up in the morning, a person feels as if a tram has passed on him.
Chronic fatigue, lack of joys in life (although there may be plenty of reasons), aversion to sex (what a libido, you can hardly drag your legs here!), The inclusion of an energy-saving mode - all these are clinical signs of emotional burnout.
It is clear that life is actually a zebra, and it can't always be good... But the emotionally correct life of a parent is a condition of safety for the whole family, a bright pigment for a striped life.
Become your own mother: step by step instructions
Lyudmila Petranovskaya, a family psychologist who is actively involved in the problem of emotional burnout, gives a simple answer why it is so important for parents to monitor their condition.
Taking care of yourself is an investment in your child. No good things - the best toys, branded clothes, good food - can replace a loving and happy mother for children.
And therefore, having noticed the first signs of emotional burnout, preventive measures should be taken. First of all, take care of yourself. Because a tired mother is not able to do her job well.
images.fastcompany.com
Bayu-bye, all mothers should sleep at night
Sleep is the key to health . And mental as well. 7-8 hours of proper sleep will allow the depleted nervous system to recover and become more resistant to stress.
Giving up TV at night, not surfing the Internet before going to bed, spending the last hours before going to bed in peace and quiet, if necessary, supporting yourself with B vitamins (after consulting a neurologist) are the very first steps that can significantly improve your general condition.
fly-mama.ru
Mom's must-have
Daily walks and good food are a prerequisite not only for the child, but also for the mother. Only a healthy body has the strength, neither a cake nor a cup of coffee in the morning will replace the energy from a full meal.
If you set out with a friend ...
If today you find it difficult with children, ask your loved ones to help. Asking for help is not a fiasco. There is nothing more important than replenishing parental forces in raising a child.
As Lyudmila Petranovskaya notes, in a situation of emotional burnout, first of all, you need to save your mother. Let the grandparents look after you, not after him - bring her tea, surround her with love, make her feel supported and cared for.
cosmohit.ua
We replenish stocks
A list of joys - its presence is important for every tired mother. Something that really brings pleasure (at least it did before) and replenishes the resource. Whoever puts the "done" birdie against each item on this list makes a huge contribution to preventing burnout.
Embroidery, a film once a week, a bath once a month, forum meetings of like-minded people, a bath for two hours, a massage course - any action that lifts the mood and improves the emotional background.
The best piece of cake yourself
Perhaps the most important prevention of burnout in mom is to learn how to spend money and time on yourself without remorse. Translating the purchased coat and the cost of lunch in the cafe into toys and diapers is fertile soil for feelings of guilt, which, like an ulcer, eats away from the inside.
Ultimately, investing in yourself is also investing in the child. When deciding whether to go to the theater or not, to buy a gift for yourself or your child, do not forget about it.
w ww.gouda.dk
Burnout is not a disease, this is a consequence of wrong actions.
An environmentally friendly mode of work and rest, love and care for oneself, the ability to value oneself and feel sorry for oneself - these are the skills necessary for a successful mother, which significantly increase the chances of long and happy years in the company of their own children.
"The book" Mom at Zero "was published by Anastasia Izyumskaya and Anna Kuusmaa - about fatigue, hatred of the body and misunderstanding, as well as why it is not easy to get out of postpartum depression and how important it is to prepare for the role of a parent. The Village Kazakhstan publishes an excerpt from the book.
First story
Alina
"In lonely parenthood, the worst thing is permanence"
Alina Farkash. 36 years. Second marriage (8 years old). Two children: a son from his first marriage (11 years old), a daughter from a second marriage (4 years old). She was born in Moscow. Lives in Ra'anana (Israel)
#divorce
#loneliness
#Lack of Help
#complicatedRelationshipsMama
#firstChild
When my son was four months old, one night I found myself on the windowsill with him, whimpering, in my arms. I remember exactly the plan that has formed in my head: now I’ll throw it out the window, then I’ll go to bed, I’ll get a lot of sleep, to the very bottom, and in the morning I’ll jump after him. And everything will finally end. That was the plan. And at that moment I got scared and did something terrible.
We lived in a new apartment, furniture was not yet in all the rooms, so I brought several blankets and rugs to the empty nursery, covered the floor with them, put my son on top, and closed the door to the nursery. I went into the bedroom, closed the door - so, through two doors, crying was completely inaudible. She climbed under the covers and instantly fell asleep.
I woke up late, when it was already quite light, incredibly happy, for a split second lay smiling on the bed - completely alone! - when I suddenly remembered what I had done. What. I did it.
I was absolutely sure that I had killed my child, that he was entangled in blankets and suffocated, that he slid to the bare floor and died of the cold. That he simply died of horror, loneliness and hunger - he always slept with me, I did not leave him for a minute! I was absolutely sure that a lonely night for such a kid would be fatal. Incorrigible.
When I reached the nursery, I found something amazing there. First, he was alive. Secondly, he did not cry. The son managed to slide off the blanket onto the floor, but it did not kill him, he gnawed at the corner of the blanket cover with an extremely satisfied look, laughed and played with it.
This was the first stage. At that moment, I realized that children are much stronger than people usually think. And mothers - on the contrary. In principle, the son was a very calm child, a gift option. The only problem was that from his month I raised him alone and worked in parallel. And also the fact that I have a meteorological dependence: as soon as a thunderstorm or a sharp change in the weather happens, I immediately fall with a migraine.
The difficulty is that the son has exactly the same addiction. Therefore, he cried and screamed only on those days and nights when I was lying on the bed absolutely exhausted, with a black veil before my eyes, fear of light and sound. Those days and nights were the worst.
In lonely parenting, the worst thing is permanence. I remember that I was ready to give ten years of my life so that at least once someone changed my son's diaper. Seven and a half years later, when my daughter and I were born with my second husband, for a long time I did not touch her diapers at all - I simply could not. However, the boundaries of the impossible are pushed apart at a time when you are alone with your child for weeks, months, years.
Once I had an unsuccessful removal of a wisdom tooth - so that the swelling of my throat was visible, it seems, from space. I couldn’t eat or talk, only siphon water through a straw. Because of breastfeeding, I (fool!) Did not drink any antibiotics or pain relievers, and for two weeks lay in painful oblivion. Which, however, did not eliminate the need to change diapers and feed my son. And at least a little to entertain him. And work.
I wrote one of my funniest articles as follows: I was sitting at a table with a computer, a pillow lay on my lap, and my son was on the pillow, grabbing my chest with both hands. I sobbed loudly - before screaming, thick walls and the absence of neighbors in our new building saved me - and typed-typed-typed funny funny letters.
The most amazing thing about all this is that it did not occur to me to ask for help. Yes, in fact, there was no one. The ex-husband said that since I am going to get divorced and “destroy the family”, he washes his hands and will not help with the child - after all, I am divorcing him and, therefore, deliberately depriving the child of his father. Mom lived on a nearby street, but after her "help visits" I came to my senses for a week.
Not a single detail was hidden from her: she noticed boxes of ready-made food, which I ordered from a nearby cafe.
In addition, I really wanted to do at least something in my life not myself. So I ordered food - not often, a couple of times a week. Mom condemned it. First, it's expensive. Secondly, it is completely inconsistent with the diet of a nursing mother. Thirdly, the very fact of such a nobility resented her. “You’re a young girl,” she said, “you got up, quickly washed the floors, ran to air and take a walk with the child, wrote the text - and you relax!” I crawled like a boiled fly and was worried about my own imperfection.
Now it's wild for me to remember this, but then arguing with my mother took an infinite amount of energy from me. We argued about almost everything. She condemned me for using diapers, suggested putting overalls on my son inside out, because the correct baby clothes are sewn with the seams out; as soon as I turned away or left the room, my mother immediately, tightly, with a "log", swaddled her son and tried to give him water or a mixture, completely breastfeeding. So I tried not to stray too far from them.
Before each of her visits, I diligently ironed a stack of diapers - I never swaddled my son, but it was easier for me to stroke them than to explain to my mother why they were not there. However, this did not help; not a single maternal mistake was hidden from the sharp-sighted gaze. That I don't walk every day. What I don't bathe every day. And if I bathe, then in a regular bath with plain water, and not pre-boiled and with a decoction of herbs. "When you were little, I washed the floors twice a day!" - said my mother. When my son was little, I didn't seem to wash the floors at all. In any case, I don't remember anything about it.
Best of all, my condition in those months is described by Chekhov's story "I Want to Sleep." I was an absolute, self-absorbed zombie who only responded to the most acute stimuli. This lasted until eight months later I went to work and a nanny moved in with us.
The most offensive thing is that I was the first to give birth from all my friends, and they either did not know how to react to my new status, or they were afraid to bother me, so they just disappeared. Sometimes I didn't hear a human voice for weeks. Then I did not know anything about the mask, which must be put on first on myself, and then on the child. Or that mothers also need support and love.
I felt absolute, endless guilt for all my motherhood. For raising my son without a father, for not being able to give birth without an epidural, stimulation and elbow extrusion. For not washing the floors, not walking, not developing, and many more “not”. For the fact that she recovered and grew ugly. For the fact that I cannot ride as a cheerful young girl and spend all my strength on banal survival.
Even for the fact that while feeding my son I read books and watch films, I was lightly but eaten up by a small worm. He appeared after my mother saw a kind of debauchery and laziness: I was feeding, lying on the bed with a book in my hands, and was terribly indignant. “During feeding, you need to sit so that it is comfortable for the baby,” said the mother, “and not be distracted, but look at your baby, admire him and experience the joy of motherhood!” Deep down, I realized the delusional nature of this idea, but the worm nevertheless settled down and gnawed.
At that madly lonely time, I had exactly one outlet and a support group - the forum “Mom. RU". It was quite ancient, you didn't even need to register there and you could write anonymously. There were regular scandals and groups of girls were friends against each other. But it was the forum that helped me fix my suddenly broken breast pump. At three in the morning, when my son happily slept through all the feedings and my breast was bursting with milk. It was from the forum that an unfamiliar girl came to me when I broke up with my husband. She arrived, wiped my tears, showed me a carrier for babies - not even a sling yet, not a backpack, but a sort of shoulder bag, now they no longer make such. And it was for me a window to a new world, a real discovery, a promise of another, new, free life.
Since my stroller did not fit into the car, I simply could not go anywhere with my child. And all the acquaintances confirmed: “Yes, it is harmful for babies to travel somewhere other than parks and playgrounds. Gave birth - devote yourself to the child! "
Now I understand how wild it all sounded, but my son was the first baby I saw up close, I had no experience, I did not see a single mother around me who would go with her child to museums, cafes, or at least to a meeting with friends. Two girls of our course, who gave birth before me, immediately disappeared from all radars and completely immersed themselves in motherhood.
All my common sense shouted that it was impossible, that a person locked in four walls with a baby would certainly go mad and run wild - and was shattered by someone else's experience. About the many fears that stubbornly instilled from all sides. Until a month, the child should not be shown to anyone, he is still too weak. Until all vaccinations are done (that is, up to three years), you cannot go with him to public places. There are so many people around with tuberculosis and the devil knows what else! And so on, so on.
It seemed that there were a lot of them - experienced mothers, grandmothers, pediatricians, reputable friends. And I, with my boy, are alone against the whole world.
Therefore, it was such a joy to meet the community of young mothers. Of course, everyone there had different views, life situations and principles of upbringing. It was important that many of them, like me, were left alone with their child and their problems. Although many of these girls had husbands, grandmothers, and a large circle of relatives, globally we were all very lonely. And they owed a lot to this world. Just for the fact that we have given birth to children.
It was there that I was told about the slings, and I immediately ordered one for myself. It was brought to me by a girl with a one-year-old girl on her chest: her husband left her, and she worked as a courier: in winter, in Moscow, on the metro and buses with transfers, she delivered orders from a children's store. In front of her was her daughter in a sling, and in the back - a huge backpack with orders. I remember how this meeting struck me: it seemed to me that there could not be more terrible than this work and such a fate. From morning to evening, for eight hours a day, wander from end to end of the city with a tiny child in her arms. But the girl was cheerful and beautiful, red-haired, and her daughter seems to be the most calm child in the world. She showed me how great she lost weight in this job: jeans literally fall off - what a strong back she has become. And in general - fresh air and a lot of time to read books and communicate with my daughter. In her immense backpack were soap bubbles, colorful children's books and finger puppets to act out. Her child, who, in fact, grew up on the road and in the subway, was much better developed than many of his peers. It is amazing how much mental and physical strength this mother needed in order to arrange a happy childhood for her daughter in such conditions.
Ten years later, this girl and I crossed paths again on the Web - and everything was fine with her. She owned a famous online store, got married again, this time to a very good man, and gave birth to another daughter.
But then, when I met a person who was in a situation similar to mine, only a thousand times worse - calm, cheerful and confident that everything would be fine - it made a huge impression on me. It wasn’t like a reproach like that in Africa, children are starving. Or to "pull yourself together, rag, someone is worse than you." It looked like a light at the end of a tunnel. A ray of hope. The fact that the most terrible life can be organized so that it contains at least a little bit of joy and happiness.
Since then, I began to travel a lot with my son - on dates, parties and visiting. When I was eight months old, I went to work and have never worked as hard in my life as I did at that time. All the time it seemed to me that a little more - and we will die of hunger. I cannot pay the nanny, I cannot feed my son and me. I grabbed all the sentences and wrote, wrote, wrote all day long. Colleagues warned me that you can burn out, that this does not lead to good, but I did not understand what the danger was. I do my favorite job in the best magazine in the world, among cool, beautiful and talented people! What is the problem?
Actually, the problem did not happen immediately. It accumulated gradually, and I was thrown off only three years after the birth of my son, when I met my husband - then still the future.
Suddenly I realized that I had no strength at all. At all. At first, I stopped doing all the freelancing that I had in addition to my main job. Then she switched to part-time. Then to freelance. Then she stopped coping with him. For days I either lay on the bed, facing the wall, or read a site with reviews about cosmetics. At this time, the future husband was busy with the house, my son and work. I was ashamed. It seemed to me that I was just very, very lazy. I can’t get myself together, I can’t pull myself together.
I was so exhausted that I didn't even get to the shower more than once or twice a week. The enlightenment came on the day when I could not read another review about some lipstick. I reread and reread that paragraph, but the meaning eluded me, this text seemed too complicated to me. I felt like the hero of the story "Flowers for Algernon", who gradually lost his intellect and understood this. And at that moment I was scared.
And then there was a lot of things: a psychiatrist, antidepressants, working with a psychotherapist and gradually learning how to handle oneself carefully. Now my son is eleven years old. My daughter is almost four. I still feel like a terrible mother for him, I have not been able to overcome all this burden of guilt and complexes. But on the other hand, I feel like an ideal mother for my youngest daughter. In any case, the best possible for her. I continue to be friends with those girls from the “Mom. ru ”, although we have long been scattered across different countries.
And most importantly, I try very hard to support young mothers who are still loaded with such a load of guilt, responsibilities, and responsibilities: “Your child should be happy, harmonious, successful, comfortable for society, but at the same time not like everyone else, he should be developed, but you should not be a crazy hen and only deal with a child, and you should also look good, have a hobby and a good job, be well-groomed, cheerful and never ask anyone for help, because you are an adult woman and gave birth consciously and for myself".
I find this whole list of insane and contradictory requirements that every young mother tries to meet in one way or another as horrible. And I want each of them to stop. Sat down. She sighed. She exhaled. And put on a mask on herself.
Burnout theory
Self-help practices
Instead of introducing
#whyNeedChildren
Girls, not for the sake of holivar, but in all honesty: do all of you, without exception, experience happiness from having children and have never regretted it?
I have twins, six months, it's hellishly difficult, and I don't feel any double happiness. In general, I never really wanted children, everyone told me: "What are you, children - this is such happiness, such emotions!" I was led to these "emotions", I decided to get pregnant. And now every day I ask myself: why ?! Why did I (that is, we) do this ?! You can't put it back in and, like a cat, you won't give it to anyone ... At the same time, the feeling that my husband and I had fiercely fucked up, since before the birth of children we lived happier than after. Sorry if I was shocked. It is not customary for us to discuss this ...
(post on Facebook, 800 comments)
There are days
There are days when I feel like opening a window and yelling at the top of my lungs.
Or throw everything around on the floor and trample underfoot.
Grab the pillow and gut it.
Smash dishes or break cabinets.
But then I just look at the mess that was left after the Silent Day, and it seems that there is already enough. You can also drink some tea.
When the child finally fell asleep
When the child finally fell asleep, the main thing is to stay calm and not rush headlong around the house with goggled eyes, trying to realize all his desires and make up for everything lost in the day. You just have to honestly admit that it is impossible to remove all this horror in the style of "just came Seryozha" in two hours, do exercises, manicure, pedicure, take a shower, dry your hair, make a face mask, rub yourself with a scrub, eat a cutlet that has been waiting for lunch and a new arrival cake, post interviews, update working social networks, read a book, write a book and a couple of dozen more necessary and enjoyable things to do.
But you can sleep well.
And write to Facebook.
First time in many months
For the first time in many months I went down the subway. The first impulse is to start begging passengers for money for a nanny in a plaintive voice, staggering around the carriages with a photograph of the offspring. Barely pulled herself together. Tears came at the sight of people. From being able to calmly stand at the rail almost came an orgasm. Nobody crawled, grabbed the leg, cried or gnawed their fingers. Strange and beautiful. For an hour and a half outside the house, no one tried to pull my hair out of my withered head! I didn’t regurgitate on a suede boot. Isn't this happiness ?! Apparently, I look wild and completely deplorable - the men twice gave way. Where were they, one asks, when I drove a pregnant belly to work?
Under the covers, roar and scream
You have to do a lot, decide, walk, negotiate, come up with something, find out.
And I want to get under the covers, roar and shout from there: “Don't touch me! I don’t want to decide anything anymore, I give up. Let Sasha grow up even as a janitor, his Hebrew is quite enough to be a janitor, just don't touch me and don't force me to decide anything else. I'm over. "
Silence
Over the years of non-stop motherhood, I have learned a lot about scarcity. A lack of various resources: freedom to manage my time, body and thoughts, rest and sleep, work and practice, money and travel ... But the main problem for me was the lack of silence.
Silence. The time when I am just me, outside the role of mother, wife or anything else. The time when I myself choose what to do. When my attention is directed inward, I feel my breath, my body, I can meditate, calmly listen to my thoughts, get insight, feel like a part of the universe and turn to higher forces. When I stop and find that some of my standard ways of doing things are outdated, ineffective, or just “not mine”. From the silence, I gather strength for the next march. In silence, I don’t have to strain my mind all the time, talking, answering questions, planning the day, solving problems, being constantly engaged and ready. Silence for me is rest and buzz, value, "gingerbread", relaxation.
6:16
Today I woke up in a very strange way - at the same time someone stepped on my head and someone fell to my feet. But the most unpleasant thing about this was that the clock showed 6 hours 16 minutes.
When I complained that 6:16 was not the right time to get up, I didn't mean any other. Only later, damn it! 5:24 is even worse.
- Eric, damn it! Well, it's impossible to get up so early!
“Perhaps Mommy. Nothing is impossible.
I'm angry. But she herself is to blame: it is necessary to formulate requests more clearly.
Was twice a killer robot
Working from home with two children, one of whom sits on the inhaler for the second day, can only be briefly described as monkey labor. During the day I cleaned the room and the kitchen (from the state of "after the bombing"), washed the floors everywhere (+ bath and corridor), cooked breakfast, lunch, dinner, washed the kitchen again after breakfast and lunch (after dinner, I have not been honored yet), washed all the plumbing, then the youngest child found somewhere a jar of finger paints (and I thought they had run out), washed the plumbing again, and also washed the pillow and blanket. In between, I read books, was twice a killer robot and once a droid, listened to Eric read what the speech therapist gave (it would be better if I were a killer robot again), listened to Adele singing, and sang along at her request (well, you understood about the robot, right?).
And according to the official version, I sit and work, and at the same time, it’s much easier for me to work than for the rest, because I don’t even spend any energy or time on the road.
Alisa Veremeenko, Ekaterina Suvorova, Daria Yausheva, Yulia Sianto, Olga Korovyakova, Alina Farkash, Stepanida Maltseva, Victoria Lemesheva, Olga Karchevskaya, Anna Bolotova, another Anna, Liza and many others who happened to become a killer robot, dream of silence, want to hide under the covers, go out in public for the first time in several months, and when the child finally fell asleep - write on Facebook about
how bad it was on the side of motherhood that no one warned about,
what is not customary to talk about,
from where you want to run back,
when all this was not,
and where none of them suspected that being a mother -
this means
find yourself again.
In this book, paths intersect, dark and light meet, here they cry and laugh, look for answers to questions that have remained unanswered many times.
Why does parenting become an imprisonment?
Why don't loved ones want to hear?
Whom to ask for help when no one is around?
How not to scream when you feel like screaming?
How to get yourself back?
And will there be happiness? Then, then, at the end of all the tests, will there be a happy ending?
Lyudmila Petranovskaya, Irina Mlodik, Ekaterina Burmistrova, Pavel Lebedko, Daria Utkina, Galina Filippova, Elena Muradova, Yulia Burlakova,
experts and also parents,
everyone was there
on the side of motherhood that no one warned about,
and this book will help you not to get lost,
smile,
breathe,
believe in yourself.
Anastasia Izyumskaya and Anna Kuusmaa,
journalists who called all the heroes to an open conversation,
and the mothers themselves,
also passed the way,
which could be lighter
happened this book before.
From the authors
We would like it not to be a secret knowledge that unites moms in closed groups. Such confessions appear on social networks every other day: "Today I fell for a child, I hate myself for that, but I can't do this anymore." And hundreds of moms virtually hugged in the comments. Each has one story for everyone: once - and not once, and not two, and not three - everyone cried, screamed and missed the time when they belonged to themselves inconsolably. How great it would be to openly admit this openly and not be afraid that your honesty will result in a massive "white coat" walk among those who "just know how to cope better."
"Don `t cry!"
"Everyone did it - and you can do it!"
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself!"
"You're just a bad mother!"
Your own parents, husband, friends, casual acquaintances are sometimes ready to admit anything, except that you really feel what you feel:
fatigue,
disappointment,
impotence.
It's like you bought tickets from point A to point B, but no one warned you about the transit station on a desert island. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you need to learn to survive in circumstances that were out of the question. You were told how you will fall in love with a child at first sight, they advised a stroller and a diaper cream, but not a single living soul admitted that at exactly the same moment you would lose all the previous coordinates of connection with reality.
We would have liked less rainbow colors and more gravity in everything related to motherhood. We would like every mother to be able to ask for help and hear:
"Of course. What can I do for you?"
We talk so much about how important tears are for children and that children's whining and complaints do not arise from scratch, we learn to cope with children's frustration - and we forbid all the same to mothers!
We would like this book to be both an embrace and a support shoulder. There is no joy without sorrow. Without dark - light. You cannot become strong without feeling weak in yourself.
How This Book Works
This book is primarily about the ability to take good care of yourself, your child, your family as a whole. Self-care works like an airbag when faced with the circumstances and factors that trigger burnout. Parents who know how to take care of themselves teach this to their children. And thus they protect them from many troubles that they will inevitably have to face when adults are not around. Children can handle it if they know that taking care of themselves is vital in all circumstances. But it is precisely this - respect for oneself - that the parents themselves must first be taught.
We do not write about difficult moments in parenting with the aim of scaring or dissuading from the intention of having children. Difficult moments have always been, are and will be. You are not alone along the way. Each chapter in this book is written to support.
Stories
15 stories of women in different life circumstances when it was difficult to cope with the mother's role, and three stories of men who were next to women experiencing burnout. It is here, next to the stories, that you will find tags that will become a kind of directional signs for traveling through the book. For example, if you are acutely isolated in parenting, read the passages tagged #insulation.
Reflexive questions
Some stories are told with a continuation in the form of reflexive questions, which were specially composed for the heroines by the psychologist, narrative therapist Ekaterina Burmistrova.
“Written psychological practices, in particular written responses to questions, are powerful tools for change. They grow wings, ”she explains.
You can ask them yourself, following the heroines, and also try to answer them. Not every question may be right for you. But if, while reading any of them, you feel the so-called "aha-reaction" (the thought comes: what a great question!) - it means that now it will be useful to you. And for the rest of the questions, either the time has not come yet, or they are not yours. If a question is annoying, try reformulating it. If there is no question that fits your story, think about what question might sound in your case and send it to the creators of the book. We will voice your questions in the next edition.
Attention! It is best to use this format with caution if you are currently experiencing severe prolonged stress that is not directly related to the topic of the questions. In this case, you can ask them to yourself and, without answering in writing, just think about them. The answer doesn't have to pop up automatically - it takes time to arrive. Let the question lie in the pocket.
In the chapter “A Journey to the Other Shore,” Ekaterina Burmistrova also prepared a series of general reflective questions for all readers.
Theory
Here you will find information from psychologists and psychotherapists that will help you better understand what happens to a parent in a state of burnout or depression, where aggression comes from, a frequent companion of burnout, and what other transformations can be part of the journey called "Parenting".
Self-help practices
In a difficult situation, there is nothing better than the individual assistance of specialists. But it often happens that the parent does not have the opportunity to refer to such a resource and does not find points of support in the immediate environment. In this chapter, you will find techniques you can use to help yourself when you feel tired or exhausted. Simple and effective practices of self-respect. We checked.
Emergency Lists
We could call this chapter "The Mood Box". Open it in moments of sadness and sort through the finds, as once upon a time in childhood you went through your mother's jewelry. Recipes, films, books, websites and motivators - something from our lists will surely resonate in the heart, cause a smile and return the joy of being here and now.
Part I. Stories of Zero
Fifteen stories of parental burnout
First story
Alina
"In lonely parenthood, the worst thing is permanence"
Alina Farkash... 36 years. Second marriage (8 years old). Two children: a son from his first marriage (11 years old), a daughter from a second marriage (4 years old). She was born in Moscow. Lives in Ra'anana (Israel)
#divorce
#loneliness
#Lack of Help
#complicatedRelationshipsMama
#firstChild
When my son was four months old, one night I found myself on the windowsill with him, whimpering, in my arms. I remember exactly the plan that has formed in my head: now I’ll throw it out the window, then I’ll go to bed, I’ll get a lot of sleep, to the very bottom, and in the morning I’ll jump after him. And everything will finally end. That was the plan. And at that moment I got scared and did something terrible.
We lived in a new apartment, furniture was not yet in all the rooms, so I brought several blankets and rugs to the empty nursery, covered the floor with them, put my son on top, and closed the door to the nursery. I went into the bedroom, closed the door - so, through two doors, crying was completely inaudible. She climbed under the covers and instantly fell asleep.
I woke up late, when it was already quite light, incredibly happy, for a split second lay smiling on the bed - completely alone! - when I suddenly remembered what I had done. What. I did it.
I was absolutely sure that I had killed my child, that he was entangled in blankets and suffocated, that he slid to the bare floor and died of the cold. That he simply died of horror, loneliness and hunger - he always slept with me, I did not leave him for a minute! I was absolutely sure that a lonely night for such a kid would be fatal. Incorrigible.
When I reached the nursery, I found something amazing there. First, he was alive. Secondly, he did not cry. The son managed to slide off the blanket onto the floor, but it did not kill him, he gnawed at the corner of the blanket cover with an extremely satisfied look, laughed and played with it.
This was the first stage. At that moment, I realized that children are much stronger than people usually think. And mothers - on the contrary. In principle, the son was a very calm child, a gift option. The only problem was that from his month I raised him alone and worked in parallel. And also the fact that I have a meteorological dependence: as soon as a thunderstorm or a sharp change in the weather happens, I immediately fall with a migraine.
The difficulty is that the son has exactly the same addiction. Therefore, he cried and screamed only on those days and nights when I was lying on the bed absolutely exhausted, with a black veil before my eyes, fear of light and sound. Those days and nights were the worst.
In lonely parenting, the worst thing is permanence. I remember that I was ready to give ten years of my life so that at least once someone changed my son's diaper. Seven and a half years later, when my daughter and I were born with my second husband, for a long time I did not touch her diapers at all - I simply could not. However, the boundaries of the impossible are pushed apart at a time when you are alone with your child for weeks, months, years.
Once I had an unsuccessful removal of a wisdom tooth - so that the swelling of my throat was visible, it seems, from space. I couldn’t eat or talk, only siphon water through a straw. Because of breastfeeding, I (fool!) Did not drink any antibiotics or pain relievers, and for two weeks lay in painful oblivion. Which, however, did not eliminate the need to change diapers and feed my son. And at least a little to entertain him. And work.
I wrote one of my funniest articles as follows: I was sitting at a table with a computer, a pillow lay on my lap, and my son was on the pillow, grabbing my chest with both hands. I sobbed loudly - before screaming, thick walls and the absence of neighbors in our new building saved me - and typed-typed-typed funny funny letters.
The most amazing thing about all this is that it did not occur to me to ask for help. Yes, in fact, there was no one. The ex-husband said that since I am going to get divorced and “destroy the family”, he washes his hands and will not help with the child - after all, I am divorcing him and, therefore, deliberately depriving the child of his father. Mom lived on a nearby street, but after her "help visits" I came to my senses for a week.
Not a single detail was hidden from her: she noticed boxes of ready-made food, which I ordered from a nearby cafe.
In addition, I really wanted to do at least something in my life not myself. So I ordered food - not often, a couple of times a week. Mom condemned it. First, it's expensive. Secondly, it is completely inconsistent with the diet of a nursing mother. Thirdly, the very fact of such a nobility resented her. “You’re a young girl,” she said, “you got up, quickly washed the floors, ran to air and take a walk with the child, wrote the text - and you relax!” I crawled like a boiled fly and was worried about my own imperfection.
Now it's wild for me to remember this, but then arguing with my mother took an infinite amount of energy from me. We argued about almost everything. She condemned me for using diapers, suggested putting overalls on my son inside out, because the correct baby clothes are sewn with the seams out; as soon as I turned away or left the room, my mother immediately, tightly, with a "log", swaddled her son and tried to give him water or a mixture, completely breastfeeding. So I tried not to stray too far from them.
Before each of her visits, I diligently ironed a stack of diapers - I never swaddled my son, but it was easier for me to stroke them than to explain to my mother why they were not there. However, this did not help; not a single maternal mistake was hidden from the sharp-sighted gaze. That I don't walk every day. What I don't bathe every day. And if I bathe, then in a regular bath with plain water, and not pre-boiled and with a decoction of herbs. "When you were little, I washed the floors twice a day!" - said my mother. When my son was little, I didn't seem to wash the floors at all. In any case, I don't remember anything about it.
Best of all, my condition in those months is described by Chekhov's story "I Want to Sleep." I was an absolute, self-absorbed zombie who only responded to the most acute stimuli. This lasted until eight months later I went to work and a nanny moved in with us.
The most offensive thing is that I was the first to give birth from all my friends, and they either did not know how to react to my new status, or they were afraid to bother me, so they just disappeared. Sometimes I didn't hear a human voice for weeks. Then I did not know anything about the mask, which must be put on first on myself, and then on the child. Or that mothers also need support and love.
I felt absolute, endless guilt for all my motherhood. For raising my son without a father, for not being able to give birth without an epidural, stimulation and elbow extrusion. For not washing the floors, not walking, not developing, and many more “not”. For the fact that she recovered and grew ugly. For the fact that I cannot ride as a cheerful young girl and spend all my strength on banal survival.
Even for the fact that while feeding my son I read books and watch films, I was lightly but eaten up by a small worm. He appeared after my mother saw a kind of debauchery and laziness: I was feeding, lying on the bed with a book in my hands, and was terribly indignant. “During feeding, you need to sit so that it is comfortable for the baby,” said the mother, “and not be distracted, but look at your baby, admire him and experience the joy of motherhood!” Deep down, I realized the delusional nature of this idea, but the worm nevertheless settled down and gnawed.
At that madly lonely time, I had exactly one outlet and a support group - the forum “Mom. RU". It was quite ancient, you didn't even need to register there and you could write anonymously. There were regular scandals and groups of girls were friends against each other. But it was the forum that helped me fix my suddenly broken breast pump. At three in the morning, when my son happily slept through all the feedings and my breast was bursting with milk. It was from the forum that an unfamiliar girl came to me when I broke up with my husband. She arrived, wiped my tears, showed me a carrier for babies - not even a sling yet, not a backpack, but a sort of shoulder bag, now they no longer make such. And it was for me a window to a new world, a real discovery, a promise of another, new, free life.
