Beth Macdonald sat on a wall

Beth Macdonald had a great fall.

It was coming really. You would have to be an idiot to not see it coming. I thought that I could hold it together, but by Saturday morning, it was clear that I could not, Saturday afternoon as I was literally on the floor sobbing, it was even clearer that I could not. Hold it together that is. And while I won’t bore you with the details, because it’s all so blurgh and boring to read about someone when they are down and out, I will give you a little snippet. Because I do know that you care and the details of some one’s demise can be interesting at the very least.

Friday Daisy decided that she no longer wanted to go to the bathroom. Actually, no it started Thursday. She had a bad morning being dropped off to Mum’s. She didn’t want to be there – be anywhere except with me – and I didn’t want to go to work and well let’s just say that it was a bad morning for everyone. Daisy, Mum and Me and probably little babe in belly. There were tears and yelling and anger and a realisation from me that things have to change. They have to. This is just no way to live. Then Friday Daisy decided that she no longer wanted to use the toilet. She had been SUCH a champ about it until then – I held off writing about just how well she was doing with it all because you know the minute you write that down it all turns to shit rule and I didn’t want to ruin it. She just nailed it – and all on her own and I was thinking that this was fabulous and wonderful and one less thing to worry about before the babe comes. So when she decided that it was NOT cool to do that anymore and was getting quite anxious about it all I (of course) blamed myself and everything to do with me on it. It HAD to be my fault. Life was making her anxious and this was a sure sign of it. So I took that on board and added it into my ever growing bag of shitty guilt that I seem to be wearing around these days. And then on Saturday when her behaviour was less than ideal – snappy, cranky and oh so 2 year old like – I again thought “Dear God this is ALL MY FAULT. My poor daughter is behaving like this because I am an emotional wreck”. (hello crazy woman she is 2…that is all!) And in between all this I was reading Mia Freedman’s book (Mama Mia) and going Yes! Yes! OH MY STARS YES about some of her experiences with balancing work and motherhood and it was like someone slapping me in the face. No one is going to give you a fucking ticker tape parade to celebrate what a great job you are doing holding it all together (when in fact I am doing a really shitty job holding it together). No one is getting the best from me – not work, not Daisy, not Rob, not my poor mother who I just seem to yell at. I am resentful and angry and waiting for someone to make it better…and no one will. It just hit me like a ton of bricks.

So after many, many, did I say many? tears I finally admitted to Rob on Saturday night that I am not coping. There I said it. See, not so bad right? The world didn’t stop. In fact it made me feel a little better. So we are working out how to make it a little easier for me. Finishing work sooner. Talking to someone professionally who might make me feel a little better and hardest of all – try to stop being SO hard on myself. I really am not a shit mother. Daisy’s behaviour *I think* is mostly because she is 2 and half. Not because I am have turned her into an emotional wreck. I have been doing a *mostly* good job doing everything and keeping the family ticking along. For as long as I have. Things are going to get better. And soon. And just because I didn’t make it till the finish line (which is this Friday when Rob wraps up) it doesn’t mean that I failed.

So there you go. Here I am on the floor, picking up the pieces and looking ahead cause I can see a bright light shining my way which means that I must be getting pretty darn close to the end of this tunnel.


  1. Oh beth beth beth. It is the pregnancy honey, cut yourself some slack! You are a great mom, and a great wife, and you are just going through a rough patch. My pregnancy was awful. I used to joke that the neighbors would call the police on me, from all the screaming. Sigh. It’ll get better soon, I promise!

  2. Oh Beth, I’m so pleased you’ve asked for help. Pregnancy’s tough, two-year-old’s are tougher, doing it alone while your husband’s off working… well, I’m amazed you held it together this long.
    Hugs xxx

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