How I hated my son.

How I hated my son. Before my son was born, before the conception, I sensed that a child wanted to be born. Call it intuition. In the middle of the sexual intercourse, I felt a question was asked: will you or won’t you have a child? I decided to say: yes. Just for the sake of having something happening instead of nothing happening. And yes, the pregnancy started. After a few months, I still had no idea as to what should be done to prepare for the child to come. Understand that I was extremely in the mist in myself. I had virtually no ability to be responsible for something. I had no idea about myself in terms of career, ambition. I had a hard time finishing even the simplest of tasks. I had had no experience with babies what so ever. So when birth was coming closer i did nothing, I thought we would improvise things when the time had come. My wife at that time started becoming nervous and she started telling me what we needed to to do as preparations. I didn’t like that. We didn’t have much money so I had to make a lot of stuff myself. I wasn’t able to put myself to it so she had to ask me all the time if I was working on things, telling me to get it done. A irritation was growing in myself, that my easy life with less responsibilities was taken away from me. And my wife’s body was no longer there for my pleasure, but it was all for the baby. I had to meet people who were involved in child birth, I had to digest a lot of information, I had to learn new skills, like a special breathing method together with her. All very disturbing. We even needed to move to another place where I didn’t feel at home at all. And when the house was just finished, which didn’t feel like home yet, my son was born. I felt something for him call it love, for just under a minute, and never again after that. A young woman came to help for a few hours a day during like 10 days. She would basically ignore me, like I shouldn’t be there. The whole house smelled of a baby and I felt even less home then before. I regarded the birth of my son like when one day a person is placed in your house, who cannot speak, cannot take care of his own hygiene, cannot feed himself, who cannot walk like someone totally handicapped in a wheel chair. It was just too much for me. Nevertheless I decided to be a ‘natural father’, meaning a father that helps and does tasks and takes care. I figured that everyone would like me that way and that I would like myself too. I didn’t have a job at that time. I learned to change diapers. But in changing his diapers, he would suddenly kick me with his legs. I guessed he was trying to hurt me and to make life difficult. In revenge I pushed him hard in his belly when I closed the diapers. Much later I found that babies kick their legs because they cannot control them. So it had nothing to do with me. Apart from breastfeeding he got special made ‘milk’ from a bottle. I gave it to him, but every now and then he would just not drink but play around a bit, turning his head away, pushing with his tongue and that got me angry. I would force the rubber into his mouth and press the rubber to inject the fluid into his throat to make him swallow. Of course he would then start coughing at some point, which made me even more angry. I would kind of toss him in his cradle and cover him roughly. Or when I would walk around with him, he would move himself, so I had to keep him from falling all the time, which would irritate me and then I would let him drop only making sure he wouldn’t hit the ground. Later on my wife decided that he could eat bread. I was to give it to him. I made the bread I cut it in pieces and put it in his mouth. He then pushed it out of his mouth, or just left it in there. That got me angry. I waited till I was extremely angry and then I would hit him on his head. It didn’t help of course. The problem was just bigger because he was now crying as well. After like two weeks we went to see the doctor for regular check up and I said he doesn’t take bread, should we return to bottle feeding, he said yes and so that problem was solved. When I had hurt him and he would cry, my wife would ask what had happened and I would tell the event in a way that my son was to blame or that I had hurt him by accident. When she would plan for us to go out and have a walk, suggesting that we would have a happy time, I would find a way to get mad and have trouble with my son, depicting him as the trouble maker, spoiling the good times we were going to have. My wife then would restore the peace in the family. Feeling irritation, exerting anger in hitting and letting him hurt himself, hating him, manipulating situations for my wife in favor of myself, it was everyday living. live=evil. I wasn’t able to change myself and since my wife had a lot of troubles as well, we had to give him to other parents to take care of him. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Later on in life I was able to change myself and my son wasn’t hating me for what I had done to him, and so we were able to speak what ever needed to be spoken and have a cool communication and we still have ever since. I posted this with his consent.