Occasionally, I wish I never had kids. One is a toddler. When I had my second baby I figured I would only be changing one kid but my toddler has special needs and so I have no idea when she will ever use a toilet. She has pica so she tries to eat everything so it is a constant game of toddler proofing to the extreme and fishing objects out of her mouth so she doesn’t choke on them.
She has an adversity to food textures so her new thing lately has been throwing her food on the ground and not eating so I have to guess what food she will eat and what she won’t and constantly set her up with food to help her eat so she doesn’t lose weight or nutrition.
She doesn’t point to anything because she doesn’t know. She is nonverbal so she can never tell us if she is in pain, or hungry, or tired, or thirsty. So it is usually tears and meltdowns and us constantly guessing and trying everything until it works.
She wasn’t supposed to have special needs or else we wouldn’t have had a second kid.
Not because we don’t love her despite a difference in neurology, but because it is so hard that it has made having a second kid feel nearly impossible.
My second child is an infant. She is only 3 months old.
The crying never seems to end. If one isn’t crying, it’s the other, or both.
I am constantly changing diapers. Multiple times in an hour and a half span of time.
I’ll sit down after changing a super messy diaper from one
Only to immediate notice that the second kid suddenly has a soiled diaper.
I hate my life.
I pretend that I don’t. Because it’s cruel. Because I did want my kids and it isn’t their fault and I do love them.
But I kind of want to kill myself sometimes or go back in time and not have children.
Or at least not have my second kid. I didn’t know my first one was going to have special needs.
My life is hell.
I watch people on my Instagram account traveling and going on road trips with nothing holding them back from being reckless.
While I sit on my couch, rocking my crabby infant in her bouncer, bc she will immediately start screaming if I stop.
I’m technically working but I can’t get any work done because of these two kids.
Because of this stupid house that always gets messy.
The dishes. The laundry.
I’ve stopped working out because whenever I get a free moment of quiet, I decide to sit in silence because it hardly ever happens.
I choose the silence over eating or showering because I savor the peace.
That is very short-lived.
They will both fall asleep.
And then I lay down to take a break and one kid wakes up and cries.
I miss my freedom.
I miss the silence.
I miss not having to obsess over these kids.
Perfect home so their home isn’t gross.
Decent food so they aren’t eating bad things.
Keeping them safe.
Constantly changing and bathing.
Detangling my toddlers hair constantly.
I hate my life and I want to kill myself.