|*see below for three burning ???'s|
I've had a baby recently, have you heard? As I've been recovering from another cesarean and dealing with more sleepless nights I'm reminded again of just how hard it is to have a baby. Yes I know just how blessed I am. Raise your hand if you don't know someone fighting heartbreak in the form of infertility? I'm waiting... yep, didn't think so. There's always someone that has it worse than me/ you/ the general population. So my first thought is to stuff down the feelings of frustration and exhaustion and anger in the name of "it could be worse". Well it could be but does that make my feelings less valid?
I'm grateful, I really am. But you know what? I'm also tired. I'm the sole source of comfort for a beautiful and needy baby. If this family wants dinner I'm the one they're looking at. If they want a ride to soccer/ ballet/ the grocery store, it's me. If the house is going to get clean, tag, I'm it.
Let me just insert in here that the husband does more than he really has time for but he's also slaying a big giant dragon in the form of looming unemployment. The kids are also becoming more and more self- sufficient. For example, Anna is perfectly capable of doing laundry. All of the kids can load their dishes in the dishwasher. Grant is great at getting breakfast ready and Jennie has taken Nathan under her wing. She's sort of become his shepherd or sheep dog, one of the two. So the husband does his best. The kids are helpful.
But they still make me crazy. The husband can look at me wrong and I lose it. The kids will make too much noise and I'll blow a gasket. Maggie wakes up for the millionth time in a row and I hit the wall (literally, it hurts my hand). Does it sound like I'm angry and bitter and down on the world? I'm not, like I said I'm grateful. I am very blessed but I think we do ourselves a disservice when we refuse to acknowledge the challenges we face. Especially this roller coaster called postpartum. It's ugly man.
I've been here before so I know that this is just a season, we'll make it through. Until then know that I'm just trying to do my best and sometimes that means that all I've got is a short fuse and dirty laundry.
*How exactly do you hold a baby so that they don't look like a lump? Why did I think those boots were a good idea? And can someone please come weed my garden? It looks gross.