My heart is just so bursting full…of everything. Love, gratitude, depression, exhaustion, sadness, grief, body image issues, joy.
My mood swings are controlling me. I feel like my whole life is out of control, and rightly so…because was it ever within my control to begin with? Like when my son was born, this out of control feeling lit a fire under my usually only moderately crazy OCD tendencies. I go nuke if something goes missing. I clean even when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I try and control the things in my house because I can’t control any. thing. else.
Being alone with my two kids often terrifies me.
The things my body is capable of continue to astound me.
Breastfeeding is a beast. I’m having PTSD flashbacks around what it was like to breastfeed my son two years ago. I hate how my entire outlook on life depends on how well our last breastfeeding session went. And they are hit or miss. At least she’s latching better than my son did and I am very thankful to report that, for whatever reason, I am actually making more milk than I did after my first pregnancy. Huzzzzzzah.
I hate talking to lactation consultants. They mean well, but man they hit me squarely on my breastfeeding shame trigger. On one hand, it’s my fault that I can’t feed my kid. The simplest thing ever, just feeding her so she doesn’t die. I’m not doing the right position, or I’m not making enough milk, or I’m not pumping enough, not getting enough sleep. Take your pick. On the other, it’s her behavior that’s getting in the way because she pushes and claws and bites and thrashes around and screams. And I resent her for it. Damnit. Either way, horrible mother. And in suggesting I try something different, like massage the breast, use a hot compress, nipple shield, football hold, pump, pump, PUMP – the lactation consultants just seem to highlight the fact that IT’S NOT WORKING and somehow it’s all my fault. You see the spiral.
In order to get through days without falling apart, I’ve had to work hard to disconnect myself from my feelings. It feels so yucky to just numb out like that, but the alternative is to burst into tears while listening to a voice in my head that is wailing, “It’s noon and we just finished breakfast! We can’t do this! How are we supposed to be able to get outside today? Or brush your teeth? Or put on pants?!”
Instead, I have to force myself to listen to the other voice, the emotionally sterile voice saying, “Hey. Now we need to feed the baby. Your toddler can wait to eat, but she’s screaming. Go on now, first things first.” It’s a constant struggle, but it works. And some days are easier than others.
When I look back, I realize that 2015 was the year when nothing happened. I know I blogged about how it was the year a grew into being a mom, and I am so glad that I had that time with my son. That year, we didn’t change marital status. We didn’t move. We didn’t change jobs. We didn’t get pregnant or have any babies. Things were stable and boring. Yay for boring!
My hope is that 2017 is like that, too. I’d like the time and space to develop a routine with my kids, a relationship with my daughter, and a new relationship with myself as a mom of two. As for 2016…that was the year when things got progressively harder. I got pregnant, I got tired, then I got huge and tired. I slowed down while my toddler sped the fuck up. I had daily pain for a while and I could barely bend over to pick up things my toddler had dropped…or thrown. We still managed to have a lot of fun in 2016, though. We went camping and (barely) survived. I applied for a job I didn’t end up taking, but it was nice to put on professional clothes again. We took our son trick-or-treating and he loved it. We took him to the snow and had mixed results. We took a trip to California and had fun seeing family. We took our first family road trip and D danced at his first wedding. We successfully became DAYTIME POTTY TRAINED, people! We went to the zoo and hunted for Easter eggs and went on a train and picked strawberries and saw a parade and ate ice cream and played in the water features and went to the planetarium and went to the pumpkin patch and toured a cheese factory. Whew.
I’m glad I just typed all of that out because, according to that list, 2016 wasn’t all that bad. We were a family! We really got to enjoy my son being a fun age. My hope for 2017 is that things just get better from here on out.
Even though my current days are often dark, I can totally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Part of it is because I’ve been through this once before. I know a little better what to expect, and we’ve already adjusted how we’re dealing with raising a newborn since the first time. Another part is that I’m done making babies. This is it; this is my family, and it’s beautiful! I’ve gotten everything I’ve ever wanted, and I feel so amazingly (hashtag) blessed, as cliche as that sounds. But it’s true.
And with that, this blog post has come full circle. It’s a swirling hot mess of emotions: welcome to my life. My beautiful, imperfect, perfect life.
Psychobabble 