Monday, July 22, 2024

The Day From Hell

So this morning I took N to a ‘baby massage class’. WHAT WAS I THINKING.

I’d been invited along by a girl with a baby girl about a month older then N. Her baby is an absolute angel. She doesn’t cry, she’s quite content just sitting with her dummy, she feeds like every 4 hours and she’s slept through the night from about day dot. I’ve only met up with her once so it’s not like we’re chummy chummy on any level.

So we wake up, the class is at 10am so I’m frantically trying to sort me and N out in time. I gave him 2 bottles in 2 hours just to make sure he was full and happy when we started. I didn’t pack any milk as he’d eaten so much before we left and it was only an hour class. WHAT WAS I THINKING.

We get in to the class, it’s all hippy pillows, essential oils and low lighting. N goes down on his little mat and is quite happy laying there but the woman running it all doesn’t get going for a good 25 minutes. We’re all filling out health forms and swapping birthing stories (obviously I pick the mat in the far corner and mingle with no-one). Now I’m panicking. I know N can only go about 30 minutes when awake without crying for some reason or another. As I expected, as soon as I put my oiled-up hands on him, he starts crying. I immediately had to pick him up and jig him about whilst praying he shut up long enough to actually join in.  Of course he didn’t, so really I spent the entire class with N on my lap looking at everyone else with their smiley babies listening to this woman pour on about how good this is for bonding and how much the babies love it (right…).

The class goes on, I’m thinking it’s not that bad, I can watch everyone and just do it when I get home and he’s cheered up. Then he really started crying and when I say crying I mean screaming and when I say screaming I mean a blood-curdling scream that turned him into a huge red sweaty mess. Everyone is trying not to look, everyone is pretending they can still hear each other talk. It was mortifying. I’m trying to comfort him but nothing is working. By this point he was so oiled up It was like wrestling with a fish so not only was he having a meltdown, it looked like he was on a bloody slip n’ slide .  I literally wanted the ground to swallow me up there and then so when I hear the words ‘we’re done for this week’ I bolted for the stairs like a bat out of hell.

But wait! There’s more.

I’m downstairs shoving my shoes on, N’s still crying and I can’t grab my coat and baby bag all at the same time. The girl I’ve come with offers to take him for a minute and what does he do? He stops crying. Of course he does. He bloody stops crying. I’ve never got dressed so fast in all my life. I take him back as I head for the door and what happens?? HE STARTS CRYING!!! Honestly I looked like the biggest child abuser ever. This is my son. LOVE ME!!!!!!! By this point I had absolutely had enough. I practically ran towards the car and as soon as I got in the house had a complete mental breakdown. I haven’t stopped crying since and I can’t even put the class off next week as I’ve already paid for a course of 5. Is it wrong to roofie babies?


This post was originally published here. For more from What You Don’t Expect When You’re Expecting click here or check out some of the recent posts below!

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