“I woke up this morning to a hungry babe and an empty space where my husband sleeps. I pick her up and feed her, eyes half opened and wishing I could just go back to sleep. Slowly waking up, rambling through thoughts of the things I have to do today. Laundry, dishes, more laundry, vacuum, damn the cat puked on the rug.
Baby is fed, time to feed myself. First, I have to change her diaper. I guess I’ll just change her since I’m halfway there. She has no clothes, I really have to do her laundry. She’s happy now, so I’ll start it while she’s not crying.
She’s so fun and happy in the morning, I can finally play with her. Oh she’s smiling, I love her gummy smiles so much. The wash is done, time to dry. Dang, she’s hungry again. I’m still hungry. I’ll grab a granola bar while she’s eating. I can probably make a cup of coffee quick too.
Now she’s asleep. If I put her down she’ll wake up. Maybe I’ll nap with her. But I still have to do the dishes from two nights ago, and I should clean the bathroom. Shit, we need toilet paper. I should go grocery shopping, what dinners should we have this week. Will I actually cook it? What’s easy to make. Ugh, I need to sleep. Or maybe I’ll scroll through Facebook.
And it’s noon already. I still need to eat.”
Too often we put our needs as humans aside when we become mothers. We put everyone above ourselves, we try to be superhuman. It’s draining, we pour from empty cups. I found myself there this week. Hence the silence. I preach so much about taking care of yourself before others and making sure that your cup is full. When will I take my own advice?
Then I think, I think about my life before LG and how I longed for her. I think about the nights I prayed to our Lord for him to bring her into my life. For years He told me, not yet. He assured me that I wasn’t ready, but the time would come when I was. When I’m feeling drained, after hours of screaming at the boob, nursing just long enough to fall asleep, assuring myself she’s asleep just to have her big eyes pop wide open and have the cycle begin again, I remember the tears of sadness and incompetence in each negative pregnancy test.
And most importantly I remember the tears that were followed by that faint pink line in the Starbucks bathroom. I remember the tears of seeing her little face in the ultrasound when we found out she was a girl. I remember the tears of fright when my doctor told me to go to the hospital without Justin. I remember those tears through my dang contractions. And finally, the tears of seeing my beautiful baby girl for the first time.
When I’m overwhelmed, when I miss my own body, when I just want a second to breathe … I remember these moments. And I realize this is such a short time in my life. It’s been 3 months, that’s 1/4 of a year. 1/4 of my 23 years on this planet. These days are short and are getting even shorter. Cherish this time when they need you. It’s only for a little while.