I hate waking up, already exhausted, unsure how i’m going to make it until his bed time. 

I hate feeling that every diaper change or feeding requires all of my strength and energy.

I hate struggling to do the bare minimum, and I miss singing, laughing, playing and reading to him like I do every other day.

I hate the relief I feel when he naps and the dread that comes when he starts to stir.

I hate when my partner asks if I need her to stay home; wanting to so badly to say yes even if it means threatening our bills and house and car.

Any other day I would give my life for my son; today I despise myself for thinking that i never should have been mom. Every whimper, tear, groan and cry feels like little daggers of failure stabbing into my motherhood.

Even now he’s asleep on my chest; the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, and I feel nothing at all but sadness.

Tomorrow is another day; a better day.