Disclaimer: I love my child and I don't intend to abandon him or anything. That being said, I need to vent and if it you think complaining about your wife or kid is unacceptable - GTFO. Yes, #firstworldproblems but "it's still real to me, damn it!"
I never really thought through the idea of having kids. It seemed like something natural, something most people do, not really much of a dilemma. Generally, children have always liked me and would often flock to me ever since I reached my teens - especially kids aged 3 to 10. I'm a single child so perhaps I was unconsciously yearning for a sibling so I never minded hanging out with younger kids. What especially endeared them to me was the fact that I always treated them seriously, almost as equals - kids absolutely love that! Even now, in my 30s, whenever children approach me I never brush them off or ignore them, like some adults do. I listen with care and genuine interest, because sometimes kids really are interesting and smart and speak the simple truths that we, adults, keep forgetting...
Taking all that into account I intended to become a school teacher but my friends and family talked me out of it because, truth be told, a teacher in Eastern Europe earns barely enough money to support himself and is usually sentenced to the job for life, with most of them ending up depressed, disgruntled or alcoholics. I've seen that in the schools I went to. Long story short, I chose finance and management instead and I've been climbing the corporate ladder for the last 10 years. It's not a dream job by any stretch of the imagination but the conditions are decent and so is the pay.
OK, enough background, on to parenting. Like I said, I never gave it much thought. I married a wonderful girl at age 30 and from that day my parents started nagging me about kids. My parents-in-law didn't (as much) but my wife's brother already had kids so we felt some pressure to "catch up". We gave it some time but when my wife's BFF got pregnant she decided it was time for her as well. Surprisingly to us both, pregnancy was a breeze, no issues whatsoever and 17 months ago a healthy and cute little boy was born. That's when shit hit the fan...
My wife was both mentally and physically scarred by the experience and somewhat mistreated by the hospital staff so she developed postpartum depression - and unfortunately so did I. (Yes, men can also get PPD, google it.) We felt like shit parents for the first few months. We couldn't handle the stress and the pressure of responsibility. We're both perfectionists and the chaos that ensued was probably too much for us. We took care of the baby alright, it was well fed and clean and dry etc but we'd just sulk and quarrel constantly. I openly regretted my decision (to have kids) and my wife would be furious whenever I'd mention it. Even worse, my wife loved the little one but I myself could not feel a thing. I was just robotically feeding, cleaning, taking care but feeling emotionally empty inside... I became suicidal at one point. I genuinely went to the top floor in the office building to see if the window could be opened and if there was a clear path for me to drop 10 stories to the ground... it was my wife's birthday and on that day I came home and told her that I contemplated suicide.
Luckily I never submitted to those urges, I abhorred them and did the right thing - went to therapy. The psychologist really helped me, she told me that some men don't develop feelings for their child from day one - and that it was OK. I needed time and help - and I got both. I climbed out of depression and even arranged therapy for my wife - which also helped her. We were able to go on.
Unfortunately this is not the "happy ending". The last 17 months in general has still been insanely hard for both of us. We were both very active before pregnancy - we'd go out, do sports, travel, read a lot, watch movies together etc. All of this vanished - no more dining, no sports, no travel, no time for movies, only audiobooks or podcasts give us some intellectual entertainment during the incessant cleaning. My wife ended up with Hashimoto's thyroiditis and turned into Jabba the Hut with constant mood swings, similar to permanent PMS. My bad back got worse, old injuries came back, even ones I never knew I had. I was always the calm and patient one in our duet but I find myself in fits of rage or depressed more and more often as time passes. And to cap it off, my parents (who were the ones so obsessed with getting a grandchild) were supposed to move countries to live closer to us but have postponed that indefinitely - first due to their oh-so-important day jobs and now due to the pandemic. They visited us TWICE in 17 months.
I'm happy to say that our son is healthy and quick-witted - but this surprisingly often becomes a problem for us. He is constantly reaching for stuff he isn't supposed to touch, getting through any blockade or obstruction we set up to keep him out of danger. He even climbs fucking furniture! Apart from that he is moody, gets annoyed quickly, is VERY loud (even the pediatrician says so) and makes a huge mess out of anything he can get his hands on. The cleaning, wiping, vacuuming, washing and sweeping NEVER ENDS, it's like 90% of what we do every day. Some parents just let their kids run amok and live in a pigsty but we just can't. And don't get me started on the lack of sleep...
Anyway, I woke up to the sound of screams today (as every day) and during my son's third change of clothes within 2 hrs I got really angry with him and with this whole deal. My wife noticed and, though very disgruntled by my behavior, took him out for a walk in the stroller. So I took the PC and went on Sherdog to vent. I guess I'm done now and I feel a bit calmer.
So, am I a shit parent or do you Sherdads have the same feelings sometimes?
Let me know and thanks for reading to the very end - I admire your attention span.
