“You’re a horrible mother,” a voice whispers in my ear. I turn my head only to see my dog snuggling against me on the couch. We’re the only ones in the living room. I let out a big sigh before returning to my coffee. The creamy hot liquid warms my throat as I sip. This is the first quiet morning in weeks since a cold took over my home. First my husband then my toddler. Fortunately, I didn’t catch whatever they had. Every time my sick husband offered help, I told him to watch cartoons with our daughter. Not because I’m such an amazing wife. No, I needed him to rest and get better soon because my gremlin came back.
It started a few days after my daughter was born, nearly two years ago. She wouldn’t stop crying until my husband held her. I would try everything. Change her diaper, feed her, snuggle, sing. Nothing worked. Not until my husband held her. Once he walked out of the room I’d crumbled into myself sob until my face was covered in snot and tears. How can a mother not know how to calm her own baby?
It just appeared one night. I just finished setting my coffee to brew in the morning. When I started to leave the kitchen toward the stairs, it was just standing a few feet away looking up at me. I had to blink and rub my eyes. It was an octopus. Am I dreaming? The sleep deprivation must finally be getting to me. It looked like Ursula from The Little Mermaid. Purple skin, same black dress and earrings. It’s hair was white and spikey. He bright red lips looked painted on, like lipstick. It even stood on six tentacles with two tentacles up like hands. I rubbed my eyes again and when I opened them, the little creature was gone. When I told my husband about it, he thought it was time for me to go to sleep. I have been known to talk and say some crazy things when I wasn’t sleeping much while we were dating. But this was real, she kept appearing around corners and in the shadows. I decided to just start calling her Ursula.
A normal person would start to question the weird things they are seeing. But I just accepted it. I was still grasping that a tiny human came out of my body. As much as she kicked and stretched inside my body, the day she came into this world was still a shock. Seeing and feeling my stomach wave from tiny feet somehow didn’t translate to a person. There was a disconnect between buying a crib and the very real arrival of a baby. There’s no explanation besides pure wonder. Giving birth changed me in ways no one talks about. Everyone knows about the miracle of birth and that a woman’s body changes along with her emotions. A new perspective was unexpected. The power within my body and the wonders of the universe crashed into me as my former self died. The opposing emotions of joy and grief made me freeze, unsure of what to do with myself at times. When Ursula showed up, actually seeing her was a relief when I couldn’t see the emotional storm in my mind. I didn’t know where this purple little octopus came from or why she was creeping on me, but I didn’t have the bandwidth to question it. Not yet.
My husband would watch my face change as I struggled to understand what I was feeling. He would ask what I needed and when I’d fail to find an answer, he would just hug me as I cried. One day, he suggested I go out for a walk alone. I was reluctant, but he didn’t give up and told me to just go for a few minutes. I only went because I decided maybe there was a small chance he was right. He was definitely right.
There’s a service road across the dirt road in the woods. It’s partially hidden from the slope of the ground. I wandered back there to avoid seeing any neighbors and in case I cried, which is something that happens often. The sound of my feet hitting the dirt and my breath filled my ears. Every few minutes a bird would chirp. A breeze rustled the leaves of trees.
I stopped suddenly. “That’s it,” I said out loud.
The therapist I have been seeing on and off for years gave me homework to do between sessions, mostly reading. “Taming Your Gremlin” by Rick Carlson was a book from the 80s that included exercises like drawing your inner negative voice – your gremlin. I’m a decent doodler, so I drew mine as Ursula with my own variations. Big head, skinny body, short tentacles. Giving my gremlin a face helped me process the negative thoughts when I was overly stressed. The little creature I’ve been seeing looks just my drawing.
Carlson meant your gremlin to be a metaphor not some being you could conjure up. This was madness. Then again, growing a human in my body changed my perspective on life itself. Questioning the universe isn’t something I ever did. If this tiny human who is growing and getting smarter everyday grew in my body, then anything is possible. Even seeing a creature talking shit to me. I figure my mind is already gone, so leaning in and accepting all the weirdness that comes with this new life is less stressful.
Going back to basics helped to manage Ursula. Eat, sleep, shower. That’s all I needed to stay alive. If I needed a break, I’d tell my husband and take a solo walk leaving that gremlin behind. As I walked out the door, I flipped Ursula my middle finger while mouthing, “Sucka!” when my husband wasn’t looking. She never followed me outside. She doesn’t like fresh air or sunlight. It’s the only time I experienced quiet in those early months of motherhood. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until Ursula stopped coming by and I got the hang of calming my baby when she was upset.
This morning, Ursula thinks she’s made her way back. But it’s only a visit. I’ve learned to deal with her when she comes by. She’s just part of my life at times. That’s ok. Even though it’s been a rough couple of weeks with my family being sick and taking care of them, this morning I can still enjoy a few minutes with my coffee and occasionally telling Ursula to shove it.