The weekend is over. It was looong. And full of crying. Interchengably Helena and I cried. I cried because I didn't know how to help her, she cried because she wasn't helped. I hated it. I hate when my otherwise happy Baby is so unhappy that she cannot breath any more from crying.
I felt angry as well. At her. Angry at this little baby who doesn't known what's going on with her. Angry. Angry so much that I told her to shut up. Few times. She didn't but I'm sure she must not have liked my tone. And then I felt like such an asshole for telling her to shut up and for being angry. And I cried. And we both cried.She cried because I didn't understand my Baby. I cried because I felt guilty, hopeless, tired and depleated, and sleepy, and lonely.
I love Helena with every monecule of my body. I'm writing this post lying next to her in bed and feeling so much love for this Little Girl. But still, I wanted her to shut up. Crying baby is difficult to stand. Crying baby in hysterics is even more challenging. Though I know I should control my anger and never be disrespectful of my Baby. I apologized. I'm trying to be best mom I can. I fail somtimes. But it's another day tomorrow and we start the game from the beginning. There will be more challenging days to come and more work for me to do on myself and my emotions. It'll never end.
The weekend is over. Our home is quiet and filled with love and the smell of the baby, and hope that tomorrow will be a better day.