Motherhood and Cancer Part I: Whose needs come first?

Post prologue: I've decided to write this post on motherhood and cancer as three separate posts, as I feared it may otherwise turn into a mini novel. A lot of people when they find out about my diagnosis comment that they don't know how I manage it all with a young baby. Others kindly remark how well they think I'm doing coping and balancing everything. The truth is, I may actually be coping well (however, it's not like I know a handful of other people in a similar situation to use a point of comparison), but most of the time I feel like I'm failing. Being a mom to a young baby means their needs always come before yours. Anyone whose been there knows that means sacrificing sleep, food, not using the bathroom for 7hr stretches, all because your baby needs you. In the beginning with Julian, I was able to do all those things and despite the odd complaint about sleep deprivation or yet another poonami, it made me feel fulfilled as a mother and moreover, that I was good at this new mom thing. However, I soon found myself having mini breakdowns, where I'd cry in the shower or just before bed for no apparent reason. After a few weeks of soul searching I realised why I was having these 'episodes': as much as he was an excellent distraction from what was going on, since my diagnosis I hadn't ever had the time to fully process what was happening to me and what it meant to our future as a family. It all happened so fast--with my diagnosis, surgery, upstaging and his birth all within 7 weeks of each other. I knew I needed 'alone time' to think about things, but I had an 8 week old baby and taking that time just felt like the most selfish thing to do. Even though Gary offered to give me 'days off' on the weekend so I could go out on my own, I never took them because in my mind Julian needed me more than I needed this. He was an infant that needed the comfort of his mother; I was an adult who needed to 'man up' and just deal with it. With my upstaging to Stage 4, I was advised to stop breastfeeding because there have been links drawn between pregnancy hormones (which you produce when you're breastfeeding) and the accelerated growth of cancer. I had planned on feeding him until he was 6 months, as this is what was best for him. Everything you read says it reduces risk of child obesity and results in babies with higher IQs, etc., so how could I stop when he was just 3 and a bit months? I argued with Gary about it whose response again and again was "You are doing what's best for him. You're making sure you'll be here for him in the future. That's what's best for him." He was right, but I still couldn't help feeling like a complete failure as a mother. I had milk I could give to him, but This disease was forcing me to be selfish again. So in attempt to eek out as much breastfeeding time as possible, I expressed milk 8 times a day for two weeks to build up a supply to last him until he was 16 weeks. Although, it was extremely painful at times, it made me feel a little less like a failure as a mom. In the following weeks, I felt shame and guilt feeding Julian from a bottle (even though it was breast milk most of the time) at baby classes, whilst others breastfed. Guilt because my condition was affecting him and shame because I always thought I would be able to do what was best for my son. (A side note: it turned out I would have had to stop breastfeeding him a few weeks after I stopped anyway when I started treatment) Fast forward a few months to the beginning of June, when the disease began to physically manifest itself in the form of severe back and hip pain, and extreme fatigue- the latter caused by treatment. For the few weeks of the pain, I just powered through. Lifting Julian in and out of the cot, off the changing table, taking him swimming all hurt, but what else was I to do? Leave him in his bed all day? Not change his diaper? Stay indoors all week? I didn't think about it, I just did it, until one day my back went. I had put Julian on the changing table and as I lay him down my back started spasming. My first instinct was to lay down flat on the floor- a position in which I was to remain in for the next two hours. I phoned Gary to ask him to come home, but it would be a few hours before he could leave work and it takes him 50 minutes to get home. As I lay on the floor unable to move, Julian screaming (I knew he was hungry) I stared at the ceiling thinking how I had failed at motherhood; how I didn't have the strength to get up and pick him up and how much of a bad parent that made me. I did eventually make it to a standing position, got him a bottle and stood hunched over the table feeding him until Gary got home. It was after this that we had my mother in law, Pat, move in with us on an almost full time basis. Although I welcomed her help, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was failing Julian. In the beginning when Pat would tell me to go upstairs and nap or rest my back, I couldn't. I felt I was being selfish and putting my needs above his. When she'd take him at night so I could get a full night's sleep after the fatigue of treatment, I again felt the guilt of being selfish-- here I was sleeping peacefully and he was crying at 2am, probably craving cuddles from mom. It's taken a lot of time, but I've learned to listen to Gary in that I need to take care of myself. I understand that although Julian is supposed to come first, I'm in a situation where I need to put me first a lot of times in order to make it through this. However, even though I understand it, Does that mean I don't feel like a sham of a mom most of the time? No, it doesn't. Does it help ease the guilt as a new mother accepting you have to pass childcare off to someone else because you physically cannot cope? I wish it did. Truth is, I'm scared that in two, three, or five years time, I'll look back and think I could've done more. It's that fear that even on bad days gets me out of bed and down the stairs to sit in the couch with him for a few hours, feed him and change a few diapers, even if it means I'm a bit sorer the next day and get 'stink eye' from Gary for 'overdoing' it.