holding on

we don't speak of this: being a mother is not all love and patience.
It's also anger, frustration, despair. It's coming through the despair to find love on the other side. Learning to weather out the emotional turmoil without snapping.

Mothers do snap; occasionally, awfully, one snaps. We've seen the headlines and the warning posters in the GP's waiting room.

The pressure is huge. It builds to a boil, pressing out against your skull, screaming in your ears
just shut up! Shut up!!!
occasionally you say it, even shout it maybe, out loud.
It's like a slap in the face, the shame that hits you when you hear the words escape. Even before you see the fear in her eyes you're consumed by guilt.

She is yours, this little person. She needs you; you are her everything. She needs you to be strong and calm, and you can't do it.

No no, you can't! It's impossible, you're not a mother, not a real one. She deserves better.

But it's too bad cos she's got you. Only you. And you'll just have to do the best you can. Like everyone else does.

You walk until your head aches, or perhaps you hold her close in the dim bedroom. Singing. Humming. Anything to drown out the crying. And you just keep moving, keep breathing. Holding on for the moment when the crying stops and you can rest with your relief and shame.