Being Kendra_ Cribs, Cocktails, and Getting My Sexy Back - Kendra Wilkinson [30]
The problem with me during that time was that I wasn’t thinking straight or rationally. If and when I actually got sleep I just dwelled on the fact that I was not there for my baby. I was angry when I got sleep and I was tired and angry when I didn’t. Either way it ended up the same, and I stupidly convinced myself that Hank Jr. was going to remember all of this, he was going to know I wasn’t there for him. Looking back, he didn’t know the difference. When a baby is thirty days old he really doesn’t remember if a nurse took care of him for two or three nights a week. In fact, hell, compared to me taking care of him at that point, if he could remember, he’d probably have preferred the nurse. But my depression led me into thinking he was going to see the night nanny as his mom. I was so delusional that though he couldn’t even really see, I thought he was going to start recognizing her. The worst was when she got him to stop crying. I felt jealousy, anger, and insecurity all at once. She was comforting my baby when I couldn’t! So I would wake up at five thirty A.M. or six A.M. just to rush downstairs and give Genie the “Okay, you’re gone. Here’s your money. Bye.”
Yes, even Kendra Wilkinson got jealous of the nanny. Was she this young girl Hank was going to cheat on me with? No. But I was still jealous of her. Because when I first had baby Hank I was very insecure in my role as a mother. I was a hormonal wreck and beyond protective, a real mama bear. I was protecting him from everything, even family. And I just assumed everybody thinks I’m stupid and I had no idea what I was doing. Even family members didn’t trust me. They thought I was going to have a blond moment when it came to baby Hank.
During these first couple of months all of my insecurities just came out and resulted in my not accepting help from anyone. I was so protective of him I basically told everyone, “Get away, I don’t need you.” I guess I’ve always needed to prove everyone wrong. And I thought I could do that by being the best mom, without any help. I’m so stubborn in that way. I had this persona—the blond girl with big boobs who’s been on TV, that stupid-girl character—and I wanted to break it once and for all. People think that’s the real me and therefore don’t trust me to do a good job with anything other than partying.
It was a nightmare for me. I feel like I’m going to have to live my whole life having to prove people wrong. I feel like I’m trapped in a body that’s not mine; on the inside I’m nothing like I look on the outside. I’m this former Playboy-type model but internally that’s not who I am as a person. Every time I leave my front door I feel like I’m zipping up a Halloween costume of someone that I’m not, just like a businessman has to wear a suit every day to go to work. I feel like I’m zipping up a whole body outfit, but my suit is blond hair with big boobs and cleavage. When I come home I feel like I am zipping down that same costume and stepping out of it.
Now that baby Hank is out of his infant stage, I have calmed down. The second he looked at me and said, “Mom,” I relaxed. I could go about my way and do some work now. I was okay leaving him with a nurse or nanny because I knew I had been there for him. My only goal was for baby Hank to look at me and call me mom. I didn’t want him to call anyone else that. I needed it for myself.
So my nanny advice? Get that help if you need it. Don’t be stubborn. I spent so much energy trying to prove that I could be a good mother and in order to do that, I had to do it all on my own. Ask for help. Take time for yourself to sleep or shower. Or eat a decent meal with veggies . . . maybe even sitting down at a table! I learned