I was so 'touched out' by my baby that I didn't pet my cat for over a year

• I had a long labor that left me exhausted before I even came home with my baby.
• I was so touched out and in need of space that I avoided my cat for a year.

I've always loved cats, and I take being a pet owner very seriously. But in the year after my son was born, I couldn't cope with the extra touch of my cat.

I was so touched out by being a new parent that I couldn't even pet my cat.

I was so tired

My son was born after a 36-hour labor and then developed feeding problems. I was exhausted before I even left the hospital.

Like many new parents, I was clung to for hours on end — so much so that I increasingly put distance between myself and my cat, Ghost.

I paced with my son in the evenings, shushing and swaying in the hope that things would improve. But when he was 4 months old, he'd wake up every hour or stay awake for much of the night.

When teething was added to the mix, the nights became a disaster. My son would lie on my chest to sleep or feed for hours. During one particularly bad night, I breastfed him for eight hours as he refused to be put down. I was so tired and touched out that I'd unconsciously push his head away, which resulted in the skin splitting from my nipple into the areola.

The burning pain of breastfeeding with an injury, as well as a nasty mastitis infection, meant I had to stop doing it altogether. Those nights were so long and claustrophobic and I was so accustomed to his weight on my chest that I'd fall asleep and wake up without realizing he was there.

My cat wanted attention

In the daytime, when my cat would come to me for attention, I'd feel crowded and stressed. His affectionate headbutts and the feeling of his bushy tail on my skin would tip me over the edge when I'd spent so many hours with a baby glued to my arms.

It was like I didn't know where my body ended anymore — the edges of my physicality were made so blurry and permeable by parenthood that I didn't want it invaded by any other attention-seeking creature. As my cat went back and forth, trying to find a spot to lay on, I felt on edge not knowing where he'd settle. I didn't have the patience to let him figure it out.

I felt especially guilty, as he was a street cat I'd fostered, and I'd had him for two years before my baby. When I was pregnant, we'd snuggle up and watch TV together — it was the best part of my day. I've rescued animals like him for my whole life, but while trying to fulfill my baby's needs, I'd used up all my ability to touch.

I asked my partner to step in: He'd give the cat some attention during the day and in the evenings, while I handled the hourly feeds.

When my son was 7 months old, he started going to day care for one day a week so I could get some work done and attempt to claw back my sanity. If I heard the cat's meow, I'd close the door of the room I was in.

I didn't actually stroke my cat again until my son was 14 months old. Thankfully, he started sleeping through the night at 16 months. The feelings of claustrophobia gradually faded, and my body began to feel like my own.

The experience made me appreciate spending time with my cat because his affection for me is the same today as it ever was, and that unconditional attentiveness from him grounds me at the end of a stressful day.

Now I can enjoy my cat again without that creeping feeling that Ghost will need the touch and affection I'm not able to give.