I got married maybe about a year ago. I have a son that is seven months old now. And I do love him, but it’s very hard. I’m also pregnant, maybe about twenty weeks now and apparently it’s a girl. But I don’t really like thinking about it. I know it’s my role to be a good mother, but I’m not. Everyone is really happy about it, my parents love him, but he doesn’t really feel like my child sometimes. Which sounds stupid, because obviously I gave birth to him. But when he cries, I just want to forget about him. And I can’t, because I’m scared of what that could do, but I wish I could. I’m also so, so tired. He’s always awake, and always hungry, and I’m horrible at breastfeeding, so that makes him more upset. They say he’s fine, I’m not starving him or anything, but I feel like I am sometimes. 

My parents and I moved to America from Russia when I was thirteen years old. Back home, my parents weren’t very religious. We only went to church, they weren’t strict about it. I also had a lot of ambition. I thought I was going to be able to do what I wanted to do. I wanted to do ballet for as long as I could, and then maybe work in medicine, because I was very interested in it. I hated the change. I didn’t like anything about it, I wanted to be home again. And then when my parents joined a church, it was so much worse. I thought it was going to be like the one at home, but it was nothing like that. After that, my parents became very strict. They stopped letting me do things I used to do at home, or wear things I used to, and it was very difficult because I didn’t have many friends at all, and I had trouble talking and understanding people as well. I thought it would get better, but it never really did. While my language improved, nothing else did. 

Sometimes there’s good days, and I’m happy with the baby, and I love him, but sometimes I wish none of this had happened. I know it’s horrible, and I’m so lucky I have him, but I’m very tired. I don’t sleep at all some days, or I end up just falling asleep on the floor sometimes, which makes me worried about the pregnancy too. My husband isn’t a bad person. He’s happy about the pregnancy, which makes him nicer, and he likes my cooking, which is nice because sometimes I worry it’s too foreign for him, but he doesn’t really help with the baby. Maybe it’s silly that I expect that, but sometimes I just want him to watch the baby for a couple of minutes so I can be sick and not worry about him at the same time. He just doesn’t really know how to help me, but I also don’t really know how to help myself either. I’m scared of making him upset,  but I’m becoming really worried about what I’m doing to both the baby and the one I’m pregnant with. I don't really know how I could tell him this, because I get really nervous about it, because I know I should be doing better and managing but I'm just not and I don't know what to do.