It was a hectic morning. Top five most stressful since our son Luke was born a month ago. Not the worse ever but enough stress and madness for me to chalk it up as a top five.
The truth is, the morning started in my favor. My husband delivered a hot cup of coffee to me as I remained in bed. Luke laid in a scrunched up ball on my chest soundly sleeping, and my daughter was tucked up against me with her blanket. The three of us were lazy as the snow fell outside my bedroom window creating a beautiful winter scene.
Fifteen minutes later, my daughter was impatiently ready to hit the ground running and suddenly my sleeping son began to cry, and the crying didn’t stop.
I felt like I was teetering between two worlds. One moment motherhood felt almost romantic with euphoric highs and in a split second, I was left feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, and emotional over our current reality.
The newness of two children is still an adjustment. Trying to juggle these little beings, our home, my marriage, and my well-being leaves me even more exhausted than the current weeks of sleep deprivation.
Absolutely nothing could console Luke that morning, other than my arms, and my arms were not in a place to constantly rock and hold. I had to fire off some work emails, I had to get myself out of the pj’s I had been living in and actually put on makeup for an appointment, my four-year-old needed dressed, breakfast, and her teeth brushed, and I needed to pack a diaper bag to head out the door.
Yet he cried and cried, and my daughter continued to yell, “Mom, Mom, Mommy,” as I crossed one end of our home over and over gathering clothes, packing diapers, grabbing a waffle from the toaster, and placing a
There were tears. Lots of tears. Not because I was unhappy, but because of all the gosh darn feelings that come with bearing a child and those early weeks of care and adjustment. It is survival mode, pure survival mode.
I was in the thick of it. I felt sorry for myself, I felt guilty for the way I was mothering, I felt tired of the hamster wheel I was on, and I felt sick for not enjoying these little moments that I know will too soon be gone.
Somewhere among my tears and all these swirling feelings, my newborn stopped crying, and my toddler quit whining, and the three of us sat in the quietness of the nursery, with the snow continuing to peacefully fall outside. Luke looked at me and smiled before nuzzling into my chest with a deep sigh and slumber, and Logan leaned against the arm of the rocking chair giggling while kissing his head. It was beautiful. Suddenly I felt a calm come over me and the home. I wiped my eyes and smiled.
Beautiful trenches. That is what I like to call it. This time right after the birth of your baby when you are adjusting to your new body, your new emotions, your new addition and their needs, and your new norm. There are highs and lows not only within a day but within an hour. Emotions are running high and your energy runs low. Joy turns to frustration, then frustration to glee, then glee to worry, then worry to bliss. It is a cycle that ebbs and flows.
You swear you will actually get out of your PJs before noon, and put on some makeup today, but you forgive yourself when you realize you spent hours with your sweet baby in your arms. The dishes pile around you, and the wet laundry starts to smell in the washing machine you have forgotten to change over but today you successfully left the house with two kids and no help, so you focus on those victories. You forget that there is this thing called dinner and order a pizza yet again when your husband walks in the door, but you smile because finally you and your baby are getting into the breastfeeding rhythm and you think, well no one starved today. That is the beautiful trenches.
They are hard and growling, but blissful and sweet. There are days you feel like giving up but you look down at that blessing and feel so much gratitude, so you push on. Suddenly, days turn to weeks, and weeks, into months, until one day you look around and realize one hour, one day, one moment at a time, you climbed out of those beautiful trenches.
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