Mommy’s crazy pills

Nadya Suleman is the woman whom the media so adorably nicknamed “Octomom” when she gave birth to eight babies at once two years ago (and who was already the mother of six children, technically making her Quattuordecmom, but whatever). She recently gave an interview to In Touch magazine, that has people in an uproar.

July 4, 2011; 9:37 PM • by The Checkout Girl

Believe it or not, there was a time when I wasn’t as together as I am now.

*cue laugh track*

When my children were very young, life was chaos. I was married to their father, who didn’t love me, and whom I didn’t love back. We were too broke to pay a compliment. I was in the throes of an eating disorder. The military had taken us to Hawaii and there was half the Pacific between my support system and I. I had a newborn and a two year old and was near to giving birth to a nervous breakdown.

I had a mantra at that time: Keep moving. Years before Dory the forgetful fish in Finding Nemo made “Just keep swimming” her motto into a funny little song, I was on board with her plan. It made some sort of twisted sense to me that if I kept moving, constantly, I would get through the pandemonium. Kind of like being stuck in the middle of the ocean and deciding to sloppily doggy paddle your way to shore rather than stay safely on the raft and calmly wait for rescue. Why was this chicken obsessively crossing the road? To get to the other side. Plus, you know, moving burned calories.

One time, in a desperate attempt to keep the crazies away, I took the kids to the only shopping center on the island. It was as much a search for better air conditioning as it was sanity, but I figured we could keep moving there as well as anywhere. Plus, I told myself, we were out of the house. Like normal people.

Welcome to the inner-workings of my brain.

I wore my daughter in one of those backward backpack baby carriers that are just a few scraps of fabric away from being a straight jacket, and pushed my son in a stroller. The “mall” consisted of about fifteen stores total, so it didn’t take long to circle the interior and start over. It didn’t matter much: almost as soon as we arrived, both the babies decided they were unhappy and started to cry.

“Keep moving,” I told myself, and I did. After all, it’s not like I wanted to get in the car and drive the hour back to the house with two crying kids. I tried to appease the two year old in every way I knew how, and I think the baby was in swollen gum hell and appeasement was near impossible. After about 20 minutes of walking bedlam, I snapped. I remember thinking “no more” and sitting down. I don’t mean I went to the car, or found a bench, or even a spot out of the way–I mean I sat right down. On the floor. In the middle of the walkway.

In the middle of the mall.

You could say it was a cry for help, and maybe it was, but it didn’t feel like it. I just shut down. I wasn’t thinking, “If I just stop, then x, y, or z”. Nope. I was just tired of moving. No telling how long I sat there, one crying baby strapped to me, another hovering above me in his stroller. People passed, I’m sure, though I was unaware of them. Time passed, I’m sure, though I was also unaware of that. I remember nothing until a woman I knew very casually from base housing appeared, unclipped the baby from me, and pulled me up off of the floor.

Nadya Suleman is the woman whom the media so adorably nicknamed “Octomom” when she gave birth to eight babies at once two years ago (and who was already the mother of six children, technically making her Quattuordecmom, but whatever). She recently gave an interview to In Touch magazine, that has people in an uproar.

“I hate the babies, they disgust me. My older six are animals, getting more and more out of control, because I have no time to properly discipline them. The only way I can cope is to lock myself in the bathroom and cry. Sometimes I sit there for hours and even eat my lunch sitting on the toilet floor. Anything to get peace and quiet. Some days I have thought about killing myself. I cannot cope … Obviously, I love them — but I absolutely wish I had not had them.”

It’s possible that this is just a ploy for more publicity. After all, is there a better way to get attention than to say that your children disgust you, and you wish you’d never had them? How about sprinkling some suicide talk in for added impact? Well, the answer to that lies in the fact that this story showed up at the top of several news websites that I regularly read. And she’s signed on to participate in a new reality show, called Celebridate. Because if you shit chaos on top of chaos, they cancel each other out. Like multiplying two negatives to make a positive, or some magic math thing.

Is this all her fault? Should she have had so many babies, especially at once? For that matter, should I have had children with someone with whom I wasn’t in love while in such dire straights physically and emotionally? I think it’s too late to judge that. What’s done is done. What if, just hear me out, Nadya Suleman really needs help? Even when you’re a screwed up media whore, kids don’t raise themselves. Selfishness on the mother’s part is not a debt to be paid by her children.

I’m thankful that I finally stopped moving in a public place. Had I been at home that day, who knows how long it might have been before someone would have found us. What if Nadya Suleman finally stops moving at home? Alone (or as alone as she can ever be)? Forever? The babies might only be two, but her oldest child is ten–talk about something from which you never recover. Is there a way we can make sure everyone is healthy, happy, and well cared for, and THEN judge her decisions?

Nadya Suleman, and all moms who are struggling, I’m hoping that, like me, someone will come along, unclip your babies, and pull you up off of the floor. If all else fails, I’m an excellent babysitter with two kickass teens for references. Until then, keep moving.

Photo by: tostadophoto.com

July 4, 2011 9:37 PM 5