Ahhhh, the sensory overload of motherhood. For me, it’s the sound. There’s no quiet. It’s the cartoons on TV. Or the bickering. Or the continuous “Mom.” “Mama.” “Momma.” “Mom?” “Moooooooom!” that I might hear 48 times in a 5-minute period. Sometimes it can get to me. For others, like Robin of Farewell Stranger, it’s too much touch that can overwhelm her …
My son hit me the other day.
I had walked in the door from work not ten minutes before and, after a long Monday, sat down on the couch. I was hoping for a moment of peace, to no avail. He came around the back of the couch, leaned on its arm, and jumped. Like a springboard, the arm of the couch launched him forward just as I leaned, and the top of his head met my cheekbone.
If you’ve ever been hit in the face you know how much this hurts. He managed to get the corner of my right eye, hitting both the cheekbone and my brow bone. His head, surprisingly, was fine – not even a goose egg. But my whole world shattered.
The physical-ness of motherhood is something I didn’t really expect, but it’s something that I think contributed to my postpartum depression and, four years later, still causes challenges. The constant touch – breastfeeding, holding him, rocking him, carrying him – was a lot for me, as I think it is for a lot of women. I have an unusually high need for personal space, which is something mothers don’t get much of. But it was the other stuff that put me over the edge, and still does, as evidenced by the head-butting incident.
He used to slap me across the face while he was nursing. And he was a biter. For months he bit me, and nothing I tried got him to stop. It felt like I was constantly being assaulted, which might sound melodramatic, but in the midst of the onslaught that was postpartum depression, it was just one more thing that made me want to scream. (I actually stopping nursing quite abruptly when he was 16 months old because he slapped me one time too many, but that’s a different post.)
Connor is very touch sensitive. He has never had a lovey, instead preferring to rub a piece of someone else. It used to be my neck (it still is with my husband) but now he rubs the inside of my wrist. It used to drive me crazy. Sometimes it still does, but I now have a better appreciation for the comfort it gives him, and I know it won’t last forever.
What I’m less able to tolerate, though, is the rest of his physicality. Now that he’s four, I struggle with the running, bouncing, and jumping (whether he hits me in the face or not). He likes to flip upside down on the couch, and he doesn’t seem to care – or notice – when he kicks someone in the process.
As I write, I’ve fled from his after-dinner burst of energy, which tonight involves racing a fire truck around the kitchen. He has driven cars and trucks and toys over my feet so many times I couldn’t even begin to count. I have bumps and bruises and little scars that will probably stay with me forever, all because of one small boy who refuses to grasp the meaning of “gentle.”
After he crashed into my face the other day, I cried for hours. I cried because it hurt, but mostly because the physicality of motherhood sometimes makes me think I can’t do it anymore. Until he learns to be gentle, though, I guess I don’t have a choice.
Maybe I should wear a helmet.
~ Robin
Photo credit: © len44ik – Fotolia.com
Oh Robin, I so get this. The constant thereness of kids . . . always at your feet, grabbing at you . . . it can be so overwhelming. Hugs to you my dear.
Oh, Robin. I know. I SO know. I think the physical aspect is so draining, and there have been times my daughter has carelessly knocked me all in the name of play that have stung so hard that tears sprung to my eyes and never stopped. I send you hugs and love, sweet friend.
I can totally relate to that. I can’t count how many times my kids have head-butted me in the nose. I often feel like I’m on sensory overload. After I had kids I stopped listening to music and only recently started listening to it again (now that my youngest is 3). I just couldn’t take any more noise.
This is SO me. With 3 kids, by the end of the day, I don’t want to be touched. Period. I don’t let the cat sit with me and I don’t like for DH to touch me either. It makes me feel guilty that I have so little left at the end of the day but I’m just done.
Chrissie – Same here! I have two kids – a 2 yr old & 10 mo old. And by the end of the day I really just need some physical & mental space! Its tough to balance that with making sure my husband still gets the attention & affection he deserves.
This was absolutely my experience and it took me a while to figure out that I have some big sensory issues and always have. My babies were very hold-me-all-the time, one of them had 2 heart surgeries as a baby and needed to be held constantly or in physical contact with me for 3 years, and then the other one was born and I had to hold both of them all the time. I would get to the point where I wanted to fling my son off of me and shove him into his room. It was a huge contributor to my serious PPD after both kids that I didn’t figure out until later. Even now they are 6 and 9 and my daughter doesn’t sleep alone and I still have these “don’t touch me” rages. It’s hard when your sensory issues and your kids’ sensory issues don’t match up. The 4 years I was a stay at home mom were the worst of my life because I got no break from the physical touching and noise. It’s overwhelming.
When my son was a baby he was a pincher. He would get a hold of the skin on my neck, chest, face, legs, anything really, and knead it with his little baby fingers. It hurt—it hurt bad—sometimes so bad it would make me scream. Then in the evening when my husband was home, after a long tiresome day filled with baby duties and horrible Postpartum Depression, after being hit, pinched, pulled on, climbed on, scratched, bit, etc. all day long by the baby, the last thing I wanted was to be touched some more—by my husband! When I put the baby to bed, all he wanted was sex, and all I wanted was to be left alone! And he didn’t understand why when he would try to make a move on me I would just feel like ewww, get away from me, leave me alone, get out of my space—I just want to be left alone for goodness sake!!!!!
I hear you! My fifteen-month-old often bites me while breastfeeding. She also kicks and hits in her sleep (we co-sleep) and even though it’s unintentional, it’s no picnic!
Robin,
Thank you for this honest and authentic account of motherhood! On a daily basis I work closely with women online and in my office who struggle to give voice to the many spoke (and in the case of your post) often unspoken challenges of motherhood. Keep writing! Thank you Katherine for this amazing site! I recommend it to all my patients and blog readers!
Oh Robin…I get this. Just yesterday my son rocked a army figurine against my head while trying to climb up onto my lap. It set a ball of firey anger in my chest. Sometimes I feel smothered and need space. So so so so much space.
How true this rings to me! Even today, as my DD reaches 4, and I am pregnant with #2, and have just weaned off my medication for depression and anxitey, touch is sometimes (alot of the time) too much! I crave physical distance and quiet. Two things both my husband and DD (Great Dane and 3 cats as well) do not. I feel bad a great deal of the time that I can not provide them with the physical intimacy (esp. my husband) they need. The guilt is overwhelming at times, and just makes me turn farther into myself. It’s a vicious cycle.
Oh wow, do I get it! Mothering burn out was a huge factor in my PPD. Now that I have found some relief from my symptoms, I find that I am able to appreciate and enjoy my children when before, all I wanted was to get away from them. My son was weaned when he started to think it was fun to bite me. I don’t think anyone should have to put up with that kind of pain.
I wish I could say I empathize, but I don’t. I know other moms who let their toddlers get away with similar beviours, and I don’t understand why it’s okay to let it happen. This is an abusive relationship, and the fact that the abuser is 4 doesn’t change that. If this child needs behavioral intervention to stop the abuse, it should happen now, before the long term consequences of this level of self-centered absorption and physical violence get unrepairable.
I think you make a good point here. When mothers are depressed, I think it’s easy to fall into the victim mode and just think that motherhood means putting up with abusive behavior from your children. I also think depressed mothers may end up abusing their children when they become overwhelmed. It is very important to seek treatment so as not to fall into these roles and inflict them on the next generation.
I could have written this. Had to check twice to make sure that I hadn’t. This topic of overstimulation has been brought up many times at my therapist’s office. I have yet to find a cure. I dream of running away and becoming a gypsy.
Wow… you took the words right out of my mouth. You verbalized what I have been feeling. Thank you….
Have you checked to see if your little one has SPD? Sensory Processing Disorder makes it impossible for some kiddos to know what gentle means. My daughter is a sensory seeker and it sounds like your kiddo may be as well. If that’s the case you can work with an Occupational Therapist to make sure both of you have a much happier home life.
I understand where you’re coming from perfectly and hope that this information can help.
Oh Robin, I hope you feel better. This feeling of constantly being needed emotionally and physically is so demading, I understand. I feel it. I try to calm myself, I continue to help my child to empathize with the physical hurt ahe is causing and that it ought to matter to her that Mom feels bad when she shows no understanding of the consequences of her actions. However young, children are more capable of learning, amd slowly I have seen a change in my child. My heart goes out to you. Hang in there.
Thanks for writing this Robin. This is something I struggled with but could not articulate. You have given me so much help and solace now that I can give a voice to my experience. I hope you realise how much you have given.