When You Realize You've Become 'That Mom'...and What Comes Next

6 - These hollow, dead eyes

I would sit there in the dark and often found myself crying. Once the dam had broken, it seemed that the tears refused to cease. With each tear that escaped from my eyes, I felt a small part of myself die. "I failed you." Those words had become my mantra. I wore it like a badge of honor yet it was a symbol of my shame.

"I failed you and yet here you are my little one. My prince. My love. I failed you and there are no words that could express how sorry I am for being so weak. I will be strong for you I promise. Soon. Soon. Please. I beg you. Be patient," I sobbed.

Tears streamed down my face as I held him in my arms. My hands held the bottle of my milk and he suckled the bottle enjoying the flavor that touched his lips. I sighed because I wished that he would nurse but I knew it wasn't going to happen.

"Mommy loves you," I murmured in his ear as I kissed his forehead. A single tear fell on his face and I moved my head away as to not drop more on him. No matter how many days had past I could not break myself from this deep sorrow. I wasn't aware of postpartum depression. It wasn't anything that I had been taught. I remember being told, "Don't tell strangers about your problems. They will use the information that you give them to tear families apart." 

Fear clenched my heart at the thought of them taking Christopher away from me because I was sad. I wouldn't be sad. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to will it, I couldn't stop crying. Even when they had to cut my wedding ring off my finger because I had gained so much weight my sorrow remained focused on my failure. Each time I looked at myself I felt disgusted. This overweight, elephant foot, puffy eyes, and engorged breasts woman was a monstrosity. Self-pity. There was no way to look at me and see the person I remembered. I wondered what Charlie saw when he looked at me. He probably saw what I saw. I believed that soon he would see what I saw and he would leave. 

I imagined him leaving for work and thanking the Lord above for granting him a reprieve from me. What I hadn't realized is that he took the midnight shift so that he could bring me to my doctor's appointments and not have to miss work. It didn't occur to me that he would sit up for hours on his days off listening to make sure that I had fallen asleep. The days that he had heard me sobbing, he would bring me something to drink to take my mind off of my sorrow. 

All I saw was this void of pain and suffering. Before me, was a shell of my former self and I mourned her passing. I had been beautiful. I had been desirable. Now, I was nothing. I was less than nothing. 

'Charlie is going to leave,' I thought. 'Why would he stay?' I reasoned. 'I'm disgusting,' I said to myself over and over and over again. My internal dialog battered my self-esteem and tainted my image. My breasts engorged daily due to the intensity of the hospital-grade pump. I was producing so much milk that we had filled our freezer and needed to get a deep freeze to store it all and I was still producing more.

The constant ache and the rock-hard breasts only served to further deflate my fragile psyche. Charlie watched in solemn silence. He didn't know how to help me. He only knew the strong Catherine. This new Cathy was foreign to him. He found himself feeling powerless to protect me.

"Hey babe, did you have a good day?" He asked me when he got home from work. 

"No," I replied with no hint of love or hate. There was nothing in my reply for I had nothing in me.

"How's Chris?" He asked trying desperately to get me to shake out of it. He didn't understand just as I didn't understand. We were powerless to defend against that which we could not comprehend. 

"He's fine. He's asleep," I said deadpan.

He searched my eyes for something. I looked at him but I know that he saw nothing when he looked into my eyes. These hollow, dead eyes stared back at him because that was what I felt. I felt nothing. I felt hollow. I felt like a shell. The part of me that once resided in that shell was gone. 

Charlie leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. His soft lips against my skin warmed me and for a brief moment, I am brought back from the nothingness. I lifted my head to peer into his eyes and I smiled. It is a warm and honest smile. He returned my smile and turned to head into the bedroom. 

I prepared dinner. My actions were robotic as I went through the motions. The brief glimmer of life that was inside of me died within seconds of him leaving the room. The warmth faded and was replaced with a coldness that etches into my bones. A chill that wouldn't fade.

Chris was in his arms when he returned. My son, with his full head of hair, blew my mind. "He looks happy," Charlie said cheerfully. I knew what he was trying to do and I admired him for it. He wanted me to be happy but surely he must have seen what I saw. Surely he must know that he cast his lot in with someone who wasn't worth it. 

How long did it take for me to let go of myself? Less than 2 years and I am already a fat pig. I'm a fat, ugly, miserable pig that doesn't deserve happiness. He will leave me and he will take Chris with him and the balance will be restored. That is what I believed and every day I reminded myself that one day soon, Charlie would realize he made a big mistake.