I have been a little MIA lately because life and motherhood have taken over every second of my day. Do you ever feel like you are drowning in an ocean and your head is barely above water?
Your kicking and arms are flaring in the air, but nobody seems to run and help you? Well, that’s how the last two weeks have been for me. Moving from one place to the next.
I’m tired as all hell.
Then my sister had a baby. The cutest little bambino, with jet black hair and small little features that you just can’t stop and stare at. She’s just a little perfect mix of my sister and brother in law.
I started having flashbacks of my birth and holding little Anniston in my arms. It took me a few minutes of sulking in the sweetness, and then reality hit me. That first month was nothing short of hell.
She cried like no other; I couldn’t put her down and go to the bathroom, and she would flare up.
My boobs hurt so bad; I felt like someone was stabbing me every two hours of feeding her.
They were big, and looked like I just had a boob job but felt like I had two large rocks on my chest. Bleeding for days, or should I say a whole month.
Getting excited that I had a bowel movement, and when the doorbell rang, I prayed it was dinner waiting for me.
It was all a blur.
Up every two hours feeding, and dark circles were around my eyes for months on end. My baby was hard and seemed like she would never get easier.
I started to wonder “when will this get easier.”
I soon had it in my head to make it to 6 months old. She would be bigger, we would have breastfeeding down, she would be sitting up.
Then we got there, and it was hard because she wanted to crawl but couldn’t, spit up ALL the time, tried to feed her solids but didn’t like everything. It wasn’t easier I soon realized.
Then I thought, ” let’s get to 1 years old; she then could walk.”
She didn’t walk till 14 months old, got frustrated, was into EVERYTHING, slept some nights but not all, stopped breastfeeding and dealt with the pain of milk trying to explode out of my boobs. Dealt with separation anxiety, barely getting a date night in.
Again, wasn’t any easier.
Then I thought “let’s get to 2 years old, she will talk, walk, and be more fun.”
We are here. Two years old is nothing short of a little pint size person always testing me on every level. Screaming in the middle of a restaurant when she wants her way. Can’t live on 1-hour naps without mini breakdowns. Needs to be busy throughout the day. Can’t sit still. She has opinions. I could go on and on….
So I had this thought the other night, “when will motherhood get easier”. I kept thinking throughout these two years that every step of the way will be easier. It’s almost like it helped me get through one milestone to get to the next. I needed to have a goal. Get through this hard time, and we will be to the next hard time.
Let me tell you. It’s always something that makes it hard. I know the answer to the question.
It’s NEVER going to be easy.
I know what the future holds in adolescent years and beyond.
But I’m looking forward to a child that can feed themselves without throwing food on the floor.
Going to the bathroom without wiping butts, & not having to have my eyes on a child ever second of the day.
Screams because I didn’t give her the right temperature milk, taking naps, getting up all hours of the night, & fighting with a 30-pound little person over what they will wear for the day.
I will miss the days she will not need me to kiss her boo-boos and make it all better, or sing her a song for comfort at night, and get excited and show me how she accomplished something.
So I will sit here and drink my 2nd cup of coffee, chill my white wine for later, and pray today goes as planned.
A little fewer tantrums, and a whole lot of sleep for all!