What happened next is vivid in my mind like a scene from a horror film

IN

August of 2018, I began to spiral into a terrifying darkness.

I’d just gotten home from spending two months in a bungalow upstate with my five children, who ranged in age between one and seven. The country had been peaceful, but with my husband coming up only for Shabbos, I’d been busy with my kids nonstop, and lonely without him. I also didn’t have a social outlet because none of the women in the bungalow colony were my age.

Instead of coming home recharged, I felt depleted. And now I had to find a way to stay sane during those hectic weeks between camp ending and school starting. Between nursing the baby, washing dishes, changing diapers, breaking up fights, reading books, folding laundry, and preparing breakfast, second breakfast, snack, lunch, second lunch, snack, and supper… there wasn’t a second to breathe. I was in survival mode, waiting anxiously for each day to end so I could put the kids to bed and have some time to myself.

My husband had just switched from full-time kollel learning to learning half-day and working half-day, and we didn’t have enough money yet to afford the luxury of cleaning help. So on top of keeping my kids fed, entertained, and equipped for the coming school year, I walked around the house with a broom all day sweeping up crumbs, just to create some semblance of cleanliness.

Day after day, I tried my best to stay calm and attentive, to keep it all together. Until eventually… I lost it.

It was at the end of a long day, and I was sitting in the hallway with my kids, helping them change into pajamas and get ready for bed. One of my children turned to me and said, “I wish I had a different mommy.”

If I heard those words today, I would chuckle, knowing the child doesn’t mean it: It’s simply a cry for help or a call for attention. But at that time, the comment felt like a knife in my heart. I was running myself ragged caring for my kids, attending to each of their unique needs, and for what? For them to be ungrateful and throw it all in my face?

When the next three kids chorused along — “Yeah, you’re the worst mommy! We wish we could live with our cousins, and Aunt Toby could be our mother!” — it was too much for me to bear. All I could think was, I’m done! I need out!

What happened next is vivid in my mind like a scene from a horror film.

“You wish you had a better mother?!” I choked. “Fine!”