Yep, that’s me. As soon as the baby’s eyes close for the night (and he’s an excellent sleeper), I’m hooked into the MMO of choice. Sometimes I’ll let grandparents or his father take care of him for hours, so I can play.
I didn’t plan for it to be this way. The plan was to drop gaming completely to take care of the baby. I was well on my way, too. By three months into the pregnancy, I was weaned. I’d replaced my gaming with needlework, which made sense to me at the time.
Then suddenly, at six months pregnant, my baby arrived. No warning. The pregnancy had been smooth sailing up until that point, beyond a general feeling of unwellness.
They ensconced my two and a half pound child in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, and after three days recovering from my emergency caesarean, they sent me home.
Home. I was at home. With no baby and nothing to do. For months.
I went in to hold him for a few hours every day, but I was relying on my parents for transportation. I offered to take the bus so I could stay as long as I wanted, but my parents refused to let me partake of germ and virus laden public transport over the winter months while I visited a tiny, very fragile little creature every day. I would stay until someone took him away from me. The most I got out of that was six hours. Usually it was two.
The rest of the time, I spent at home. Crying. And pumping. I wasn’t allowed to sleep more than a few hours at a time. I was hooked to a machine.
The only other thing I could do than cry, was play. So I dove back into that MMO and played and played and played.
Now my healthy, beautiful son has been home for six months, but the addiction that I’d so carefully managed to divest myself of is back with a vengeance.
This isn’t how I wanted my life as a mom to be.
But sometimes, it’s all I can do to keep myself from crying, just be someone else, every spare minute I can get.