My kid has a stuffy nose. Like, the kind where I have to catch the snot dripping from her nose every thirty seconds. The kind that when she says “mama,” it comes out “bah bah.” The kind that makes it hard to eat because she can’t breathe through her nose, so she has to take breathing breaks in the middle of her chewing, causing her to gag on her food and refuse to eat any more. She’s so miserable, but she’s still so positive.
She went with me to work for a while – sat on the desk, got a sticker from my planner, watched the cars go by out the window. She fell asleep on the way home, cuddling an elephant toy that’s probably way too young for her, but it’s her car toy and she loves it. She was a trooper as I dragged her around to do more work. She was pleasant and smiling as we had lunch with family, although she didn’t eat much. She took FOREVER to go to sleep at naptime, but she wasn’t fussing, just singing and talking. She took a good, long nap and then woke up singing and talking some more. She then proceeded to play with her (my) bracelets for almost TWO hours. We laid in the bed while she played with them for a while and sang and talked. Then her granny came over and she played with the bracelets with her. She cleaned up when I asked her to. She quickly ate a very good dinner after her small lunch and not having any afternoon snack. She let me brush her teeth. She freaked out about getting saline drops in her nose, but really liked the vapor rub. She took forever to go to sleep again, but slept all night with minimal fussing.
That was yesterday. Today was… still okay, but we had a couple of battles of will. Today, she thought it was funny to tell mama, “no,” and run away after I asked her to clean up her books. Today, she said she didn’t want chips and salsa and rice (some of her favorites, and mine too to be honest!), but wanted to stay home (we went anyway, by the way, and she ate just fine). Today she said she wasn’t going to listen to me tomorrow, but wanted daddy to get her doughnuts. How old is my child?! Sometimes even I forget that she’s only just over 18 months old. Sometimes I forget that she’s not like, at least 3. Good grief. The conversations we have are ridiculous. The things she remembers after months are ridiculous. I’m seriously doomed. I’m pretty sure she’s already smarter than I am.
Despite her difficult-ness today, she was still pretty good. She was still obsessed with playing nicely with her bracelets. She still kept a pretty good humor as I dragged her back to the office for an unexpected work errand, enduring standstill interstate traffic and a car that was still hot even with the air blasting. She did ask me to sing “mermaid” all the way there and all the way back, and got really upset when I would stop to, you know, breathe and stuff. I kept trying to remind myself all day that she still doesn’t feel very good.
Sweet girl with all her “brabets”.
All that being said, I would not be even half as cheerful as she has been if I had a stuffy nose. In fact, I wasn’t. I was sick for two weeks straight last month and I’m pretty sure I was the biggest grump ever. How can I be more positive like my baby girl? How can I so easily look past the fact that I feel miserable and still see things around me to make me happy? I need a lesson from my one year old.
This is a lengthy post I wrote in February about breastfeeding. This was just a couple weeks before we completely weaned. It may be TMI, but I wish I had read something this real when we were starting out. It didn’t come easily to me, and if I can help just one other woman decide to give it a little more time, then sharing my story is worth it.
Jealous cat often wanted in on the cuddle action.
We didn’t breastfeed today. She slept in, and I took the opportunity to go straight to breakfast. We had been doing just the one morning feeding for a month or so now, and that was already killing me. I’m so emotional. I’m happy, because I don’t have to plan my day around my boobs, and I can drink all the coffee I want again (finally!) But, this thing I wanted to do for my child, this sacrifice I made for her, is coming to an end. What I used to dread, I’m going to miss.
I didn’t worry too much about breastfeeding when I was pregnant. For one thing, I thought it was weird. I knew it would be best for my child, but a liquid coming from my boob just sounded so strange, and I didn’t really want to think about it. Secondly, it’s a natural thing, so I assumed it would just click.
Having her early threw me for a loop. I had eaten chili the night before my water broke… ya know, you’re not supposed to eat before a c-section… so when I got back into the room after having her, I was so sick from the anesthesia. They gave her to me and I held her, then they told me I needed to try to nurse. Poor [hubby] has the memory forever etched in his brain of me holding [baby girl] on one side, trying to get her to latch, and me puking into a barf bag on the other side. I was so so sick. And I was so so tired. We had barely slept, I had just had a tiny human cut out of of me, and I was exhausted from retching. I felt bad, but I was so selfish, I really did not want to try to nurse. The lactation consultant is telling me to make a sandwich with my breast? What? Can I sleep now please?
The next few days weren’t much better. [Baby girl] had interest in trying to nurse, but we weren’t doing so great. And no one told me how much breastfeeding HURTS. The lactation consultant kept telling me that the latch “looked good”, but also that it shouldn’t hurt if we were doing it right. Bull crap. It hurt so bad. Finally a nurse came in and asked how it was going one day, and I expressed concern about getting blood in the baby’s mouth, because my breasts were so incredibly cracked. She looked so sympathetic, called me honey, and asked if I had any lanolin. Lano-what? No…. she brought me a tiny tube, and at the moment I seriously thought it was the best thing ever invented. I’d read blogs and birth stories, talked to other people vaguely about breastfeeding, seen ads for “nipple cream”, but I was in no way prepared for why it was important to take care of your nipples. Ouch.
I felt so bad at the hospital and later when we got home, I dreaded feeding my poor baby girl so much. I would put it off as long as I possibly could. In the hospital, the nurses would come in and fuss at me for letting her go so long without eating. But, I was sleeping, she was sleeping… do I have to? At home, it wasn’t any better. I would have frequent emotional breakdowns from the guilt of not wanting to feed my child. For at least a couple of months, I really was miserable. It made it worse that she was so little, and the nurse practitioner we were seeing at the time wanted me to feed her even more often than I already was – every two hours. I don’t know how we got through that, neither of us got any sleep. She would take so long to nurse, I’d barely get 30 minutes of rest in before we had to start all over again. I was exhausted. The pain that accompanied those first few months was excruciating. I would get these sharp pains, like hot knives, radiate up my breasts frequently. I felt like I kept heat on them as often as I could, especially at night. Also, after I finished breastfeeding, I would get the worst chills. The first time it happened was at the hospital, and I thought I was coming off some of the strong medicine they had given me or something. I had violent shivers and just felt like I would never be warm again. That continued for a while after I got home, and I still do it from time to time. During this time of pain and dread of feeding my own child, I gave myself a goal of six months. If I could just last that long, that would be good. But, six months came and went, and I felt sort of proud of myself. We had made it that far, and didn’t show any signs of stopping.
Somewhere around 3 months, something happened. I’m not sure if it was because she grew and her mouth got bigger and she could finally latch better, or what, but it got better. We finally got to where we could nurse and I didn’t feel like I wanted to die. However, she still took FOREVER. It’s just been in the last 3-4 months that she really cut back. Our normal feeding sessions were always at least 30 minutes, most of the time more. We were at a funeral, and [hubby’s] cousin had her baby there as well. We both were in the nursery at church nursing, and I kid you not, her daughter ate like 5 minutes on each side and then they left. I was sitting there a little jealous and a lot in disbelief. Why does my kid take at least three times as long?!
Going back to work was kind of pointless because of how long it took her to eat. According to my app, her average was about 4 hours of eating time a day. And that was strictly mouth to nipple time, that didn’t count the burping and distractions in between. I had a full part-time job of just sitting. Isn’t that a ridiculous amount of time? I got literally nothing done. [I had a super distracted baby who would unlatch at the tiniest noise or movement, so multi-tasking was always out of the question.]
Of course, I would so do it all again in a heartbeat, misguided expectations and mental breakdowns included. We figured it out, created a bond that only could have come from breastfeeding, and I truly believe it was what was best for her. It was so hard, and so very painful, but now I’m going to miss it.
After I started writing this, the next day she threw a fit when she woke up until I went to the chair with her and nursed. I don’t think she’s quite ready to give it up yet, and frankly, I’m not either. I never would have thought that we’d still be doing this at 13 months. Pregnant me sure wouldn’t have believed it, because she thought a few months of that weirdness would be good enough. New mother me wouldn’t believe it either with all the pain she went through. But, here we are ❤
As I said, we only went a few more weeks after I wrote this. It’s still weird to me how much breastfeeding consumed my thoughts and my time, and now I never have to give it a second thought. As miserable as I was, and as strange as it sounds, I miss it. Being a woman is so weird sometimes.
Also, in case this needs to be said, I’m not suggesting anything I did or didn’t do is best for anyone else. I realize that I’m super fortunate to have a flexible job I can do mostly from home, and an amazing support system that picks up my slack. I’m simply telling my story in hopes that it encourages someone else!
Confession time: I have been in A FUNK the last few days. I haven’t felt good, I’ve been overly lazy even for me, I’ve had the worst self-esteem, and I’ve just felt blah. I’ve been looking for a previous bible devotion to put up here. I spent a good 30 minutes the other night poring over my own words, only to close my journal feeling discouraged and inadequate. Nothing seemed to be important enough, intelligent enough, or organized enough to present to other people. I was getting frustrated with myself, because a lot of the entries seemed to say the exact same thing. But, I realized, that was me identifying my struggle in whatever verse I happened to be reading that day; it was me clinging to God’s word for guidance through my battle. After another day to think about it, I think it’s important to share my (ongoing) struggle. I wrote this at the beginning of January:
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you.”
1 Peter 5:6&7
This devotion was from New Year’s Day, and I missed doing it. But man, I needed this verse this morning. I realized the other day that I was letting satan tell me that certain things in my life were too small or petty to bring to God. I let him tell me that God was too big to be concerned with baby girl’s nap schedule or the piles of dishes and laundry that need to be done. I let him whisper to me that it was all up to me, that I have to get this done on my own, and that I’m not good enough [there’s that, again.]
When I came to this realization the other day, I prayed for forgiveness and for God to remind me to bring EVERYTHING to Him. A few days later, and what am I doing? I couldn’t sleep last night and was literally having a panic attack. Over what? Planning my one year old’s birthday party, mostly. I was also stressing over stuff I have to do today (long story for another day.) I finally got to sleep after midnight and then some little peanut woke up whining at 4:30. I was unreasonably angry, and then immediately felt so very guilty. After eating and going back to sleep for a couple of hours, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and I think, so did I! Between several minor inconveniences (i.e. I dropped my muffin in the floor) and a baby who has cried all morning, I’m so nervous and anxious that I’m shaking. Enter this passage from 1 Peter – just the reminder i had prayed for…
…baby girl woke up as I was writing yesterday and I didn’t finish. Looking back on yesterday, it got better. That 25 minute morning nap made a world of difference, and then the two and a half hour afternoon nap was exactly what she and I both needed. She got some much-needed rest, and I was able to get some work done, which made me feel like a more productive member of the family.
I honestly don’t know why I let satan tell me that certain things have to be done on my own, that they aren’t big enough or important enough to matter to the Creator who knows my every insecurity. But He does care, and He wants to carry my burdens. I have to stop listening to the whisper that tells me I don’t matter and my problems don’t matter. God cares about me and for me. In reality, my worries and anxieties are just there to distract me from God and the purpose He’s given me. God definitely wants to clear my mind of all that stuff. I need more room in there for Him and His will.
Living intentionally is something I’ve always struggled with – I’m so good at skating by with minimal effort. My word for this year is FOCUS. It doesn’t come easily to me anymore, and I’ve got to do better. I’ve got to live more intentionally, with a clear focus on God.
So, we’re nearly halfway through the year, and focus is still something I’m struggling with. A funny thing happened as I was reading my journal entries from earlier this year the other night, the same word kept popping up over and over again; if I didn’t use it every time, it sure was close to it. You know what that word was? Distraction. No matter what verse I was writing about, I somehow just kept relating it back to how satan distracts us, how we have to focus on God.
Life has changed so much since we’ve had baby girl, and I feel like I’m juggling so much. Before, all I had to worry about was me, and what I had going on – being a wife, doing my part of cooking, cleaning, etc.; working, doing Avon… that was about it. On top of all that now, I’m also a mom and have a child to worry about and everything that entails (worries and concerns included), plus, I’ve started this blog. I feel like I’m being pulled so many different directions every minute of every day. I have so many distractions. Besides praying, I’m not sure what else I can be doing to help myself with this struggle. I just keep praying for God to show me these things that are distracting me, and to make me able to see them for what they are. Obviously, looking at all these journal entries where I just keep using the word, “distraction,” I’m starting to see them. But noticing them after reflection is entirely different than noticing them in the moment. I’m doing better, but I’ve still got some work to do.
I expect a lot of my kid – I have since she was in the womb. She had to be tough, because there wasn’t much room in there. The last month or so of my pregnancy, her head stayed in my ribcage pretty much the whole time. They tried to make her turn, but there was just no room. Her poor little head kept getting stuck. I have said since she was born that I honestly think that’s why she had so much neck strength from the get go – she was used to constantly fighting for room. Almost immediately, my sweet girl realized she much preferred sitting up to laying back. She would get so very angry if you tried to cradle her, you know, like a baby. She also didn’t care for being rocked or cuddled too much. We gave up trying to use the rocking chair a few months in, it almost seemed to over-stimulate her rather than calm her down. She is just now getting to where she wants to cuddle for short periods of time, but still mostly just when she’s sick (or when she wants something.) She’s been miss independent for her whole almost year and a half of life. Maybe it was partly because of how big she acted from the beginning, but I’ve always had great expectations for my child.
This got me in trouble a little bit when we were in the newborn stages. The hormones and the lack of sleep made me a super unhappy person. I would get so frustrated with my poor baby when she wouldn’t go back to sleep, or seemed to be crying for no reason. I just wanted this tiny thing who needed me for everything to be able to self-regulate and self-soothe. I wanted her to just know how to do things that tiny babies really don’t know how to do.
I worked with kids for about ten years, and several of those years were spent with one year olds specifically. I learned a great deal about children and their development over those years. The biggest thing I think I learned? They are capable of so much more than we think, and expectation is everything. I would have a giant pile of money if I had a dollar for every time a parent asked, “how did you get him/ her to do that?!” Teaching a child to do something, anticipating that they will actually do it, and offering help when needed is all I ever did. Kids learn really quickly what it is you expect of them, and for the most part, they’re people-pleasers; they just want to do a good job.
For this reason, I expect quite a lot from my kid. And, for the most part, this has worked for us so far. Her mind amazes me all the time. She knows exactly what I’m saying to her. She can walk from one end of the house to the other to throw something away or put dirty clothes in the laundry basket. She can push her basket of clean clothes from the laundry room down the hall to her room. She can go get a specific book I ask for off the shelf, or a specific toy out of her bin. She can ask me to do things, like help, open her Easter egg (she’s still obsessed with these, months after Easter), pick her up, or go “that way”. She can tell me what she wants to eat (which currently is some combination of doughnuts, yogurt, bread, crackers, and prunes [yeah, I don’t know].) She knows so so many words that I’ve lost count. And she hears and repeats EVERYTHING.
My child is also my child, however, and we often have a battle of wills. After being sick for a week recently, she has been winning these battles, simply because getting her to eat or drink or do anything was a struggle. Now that she feels better, setting these boundaries again has been so hard. She really likes to test boundaries. I feel like I keep having to pray for patience, just to have enough to show her how to be patient. She really can push my buttons.
I think sometimes people think I’m too hard on my kid, that I’m not letting her be a baby. I’ll admit, it’s harder than I thought it would be with my own. Part of me wants her to stay a tiny squish for as long as possible. Another part of me, however, sees a toddler who, if left unchecked, could easily turn into the poster child for terrible twos. Yes, I want her to stay little, but I also want to set expectations now for how she should act – at some point, it will be too late.
Another thing I learned during my time with all those kiddos? Children thrive in routines. Again, I think it’s an expectation thing – if they know what’s expected and what’s going to happen next, there’s a comfort there. Another thing I’m not great at with my own stinking kid? Routines. I mean, we have a loose schedule, but it usually gets thrown off by something – a work phone call, a tantrum-throwing toddler who refuses to eat anything but yogurt, a lunch out with friends or family, or something. I keep telling myself that even if we keep the schedule a few times a week, it will stay familiar enough to be routine… but the planner and micromanager in me stays pretty anxious about it all the time.
My poor kid. She’ll either be super smart and a thoughtful, caring human being… or be scarred for life.
This is the current journal I’m using for my daily bible devotions. Literally every day the cover makes me stop and think. I am grateful. No matter what life throws at me, no matter what the day brings, I am thankful. Sometimes, I just need a reminder.
Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. Philippians 4:11
That is the first verse I wrote out in this journal, on a day when I really needed it:
“Before I even sat down to write this morning, [my boss] called and needed me to take a check to the office in Lexington, and to run a personal errand for him while I was there. It’s days like this that really stress me out. I had already decided that I could get some background stuff done today on the computer and stay in my leggings… not happening now. I was really upset after that phone call. But then I picked up this brand new journal and on the very front was a reminder to be thankful. And then, Jim’s devotion was from this verse in Philippians… okay, I get it.
First of all, I need to be thankful that I have a job that allows me to make a little extra money for my family. And as much as I get flustered with my job sometimes, [my bosses] have been very flexible with my schedule and me taking time off for baby girl. I’m gaining valuable experience, and they trust me to do what needs to be done. It’s definitely not the worst gig in the world – most days, I can stay in my pajamas if I want, and I can plan my work around caring for my child.
Also, it shouldn’t matter what the day throws at me, I should be more like Paul. If my focus is on the eternal, then I can be content in whatever. What better opportunity than today to live that out? It’s easy to say I’m content when I can stay at home in my leggings all day, because that’s what I want to do. But, can I really put it into practice when things aren’t going the way I want or planned? I want to be so focused on God that I use whatever the world throws at me for His purpose and as an opportunity to live for Him. Lord, help me see things this way!”
I have so many memories of breaking beans with my granny in this house, and this morning I broke beans with my baby girl in the same kitchen. Three generations have passed from my granny’s, and we’re still doing the same thing. I love how God gives us just enough continuity to be able to deal with the change that life throws at us. I also love the memories evoked by living in this house. It may look different now, but it feels the same. It feels like home. Every now and then, I have a familiar feeling rush over me as I walk through the house, and I’m five years old again. I’m spending my Friday night at my granny’s house. I’m here for Thanksgiving dinner. I’m just sitting with her and breaking beans (which I probably didn’t appreciate as a kid…)
As a married couple, we’ve lived in several different places, but none have felt so much like home to me as this house does. The sounds of birds and smells of the flowers in the yard are familiar. My heart is at rest here. I was so unsure about taking on this house. Every time I walked in after granny passed away, I cried. I couldn’t imagine living in this place that made me so sad. But, as time passed, I started to see it in a new light. The sadness turned to fondness, and with the promise of major changes to the inside aesthetic, I finally agreed that this house might make the best home for us. I’m so very glad that my heart finally caught up with my head, because this is home. This is a place that I can share memories with my family, just like I’ve always done here.
Husband bragging time again! This happened one Saturday in March, and it still makes me smile to think about.
Yesterday, I had a terrible allergy attack. I hadn’t had one like that in a long time. This morning, I woke up with a headache. The longer I was up, the worse I felt. I got baby girl some breakfast, put her in her high chair, and laid down on the couch. I felt so sick to my stomach. I felt bad, but I ended up going in to wake up Hubby to take care of baby girl. He is so sweet. He sat with her while she finished breakfast, then took her to her room to play and shut the door so that I could take a nap. He got her dressed, changed a poopy diaper, and played with her. She was almost out of diapers, so he packed her up, and they went to the store. While they were gone, I ended up getting sick, but after that I was able to lay down and take a good nap. Hubby said he and baby girl had a leisurely stroll around the grocery store, that he was trying to give me as much time as possible to nap. They also came back with cupcakes for me. I have the sweetest husband, and baby girl loved her daddy time. My heart is so full ❤
I get headaches a lot. I’ve never been formally diagnosed by a physician, but I know they are migraines. My mom gets them, and I know I do too. I have the symptoms – sensitivity to light and sound, I see flashes of light usually a few hours before one manifests, and the pain is just awful. The nausea and vomiting thing only started after I got pregnant with baby girl. I’ve never been tested, but after paying attention to when they start, I’ve identified a few predictable triggers: if I eat cured meat with nitrites or nitrates (like a lot of lunch meat, sausage, and hot dogs), what I’m assuming is a hormonal trigger – always around my period and sometimes others times my hormones are out of whack (like after I had baby girl and when I weaned her from breastfeeding), and allergies or sinuses. All of these things are potential triggers, and if left unchecked, can quickly spiral into a migraine for me.
It’s also funny how long I’ve actually dealt with it. As a kid, I thought everyone had headaches. As I said, my mom has them, I did, and I was just always around people who did. By the time I was in elementary school, I had already learned to just live with them. But, one time my friend got a headache while she was sleeping over at my house and I think she thought she was dying. She told me she had never had one before, and that just astounded me. A few years ago, I came across a little diary I had from when I was a preteen [told you I’ve been writing forever!] In it, I talked about one night where I couldn’t finish my dinner because my head was hurting so bad. I said that I went to my room, turned off all the lights, and went to sleep. In another entry, I talked about having a similar headache while on vacation. When I read that, I realized I have had migraines for way longer than I initially realized.
Even with all of my documenting and identifying, I still haven’t come up with any “miracle fix” for migraines. I usually take Excedrin and heat up a sock filled with rice to lay on my head. I still find that sleep is usually the best medicine, if I can get comfortable enough to fall asleep in the first place. But, with a toddler, that’s not always an option anymore. Any fellow migraine sufferers out there? How do you deal?
I wrote this at the beginning of March, and I just love everything about it. It needs to be shared with you all:
But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.
Acts 20:24
I had to look up the verses around this one to really understand what was going on. Paul is talking to Ephesian leaders about his life. He says he doesn’t always know where the Holy Spirit is going to lead him, but he can be sure that he will most likely face some sort of adversity, persecution, or physical harm. But to him it’s worth it. His physical being, he realizes, is not as important as the task God has charged him with. So, even if he is facing trials, he is happy to do it.
IT’S NOT ABOUT ME.
My poor, tired, teething baby. I feel you, girl.
I sat down to do this devotion yesterday, and immediately the baby woke up from her nap. She’s got four teeth coming in, and we’ve been working on changing her schedule. For the past three nights, she has whined in her sleep all night – so mama hasn’t gotten much sleep. Work is kind of busy, and I’ve had this lingering abdominal pain since Sunday that just doesn’t want to seem to go away. I feel like I’m being pulled in so many different directions. As soon as I feel like I’ve got one thing under control, something else happens. I typed out a quick note on my phone this morning to address these complaints. At the end, however, I realized that by being bogged down by everything going on and everything I “have to” do, I was missing out on God’s plan for my day. Yes, He can help me take care of all that stuff (or show me that it’s not actually that important), but He can also give me opportunities to love those around me, to talk to someone who is lonely, or to be in the right place at the right time. It’s not about my to-do list, it’s about God’s will.
For this devotion, Jim used a quote from Oswald Chambers. I’m not going to write it out – BUT IT’S SO GOOD – but the gist of it is this: it’s easier to “live for God” on our own terms without actually consulting God. We can do “Christian-like” things that we’re comfortable with, without questioning if it is in fact what God has actually put on our hearts to do. Jim says, “if we choose to never hear Him, we will never find the true life of a disciple.” [Link to mentioned devotion and quotes here.]
This steps on my toes for two reasons: 1) My to-do list? Not that important after all. 2) What is God calling me to really do? Well, sometimes I find that tricky to discern. God made me a mother, and I feel like that’s the very most direct way we can follow the great commission: as parents, we are making disciples of our children; it’s hard and important work. Also, lately I’ve followed a blogger on Facebook. She posts inspirational, real, and sometimes funny things about motherhood, being a woman, and following Jesus. I’ve always loved to journal, and it’s definitely the most eloquent way I can get my thoughts down – I’m a terrible speaker, even in everyday conversation. I’ve also been reading The Magnolia Journal and the Gaines’ books. Joanna is all about living purposefully and authentically, and it really speaks to me. I’ve started to feel a little nudge; okay, so, I’ve actually heard the word, “words,” spoken to me while praying for God to show me how to use my talents for His purpose.
I remember writing this out, and my heart was racing. I had never spoken out loud that nudge I had been feeling, much less even written it down. The fact that I wrote it out, acknowledged it, made it seem so much more real, and so much more frightening. Of course, God knew that I knew before that. He knew that I was, and still am, scared. But, He also knows the great things He can accomplish through me if I just get out of the way. That is so very comforting.
I found another thought I had typed out on my phone and labeled “change,” so I thought I’d share it. I wrote this in early March:
“Man, I never have understood more the saying about life changing when you have a kid. Not the fact that one day you’re walking around doing your own thing and literally the next you’re responsible not only for yourself but another human being as well (although this is scary true too), but the fact that when you’re an adult, a whole year can go by and you still pretty much look the same, you have the same job, and you cook the same dinner as you did the year before. A year with a kid has brought SO MANY changes in the same amount of time. There’s the new mom, so sleepy, so thirsty, breastfeeding is life, c-section [in my case] recovery stage. Then breastfeeding is still life and you’re literally hungry ALL THE TIME. Sleeping schedules, feeding schedules, runny noses, is that an angry cry or a something’s wrong cry? Tummy time, rolling over, naps. Introducing food, babbles, sippy cups, crawling. Is she eating enough? Is she sleeping enough?
As I sit here pumping, trying to wean myself down to none, I can’t help but be emotional. Before [Baby Girl], a year might have brought a few new outfits, a new piece of furniture, and another anniversary. This past year has brought more emotions than I think I’ve felt in my entire life. Breastfeeding was the center of my world for so many months. I planned my days around it. I tracked it. I worried over it. I prayed over it. And I worked at it. And now I’m actively working to stop it. This season is over and it was entirely too short.
Change comes way too quickly with a child. Every single day she does something new or improves a skill. I’m trying my best to soak up every second of it, but it’s still passing me by so very quickly.”
It’s so weird to me that even a year ago, I had this shiny new baby and was still trying to figure out this motherhood thing. I now have a full-blown toddler who likes to wear my bracelets, asks me for doughnuts, and sometimes screams no at me. What happened to that precious, innocent, tiny squish that needed me for everything? I’m super emotional even writing this right now. This change-hating mama is not okay.
Thankfully, I’ve been in a pretty good emotional place as of late, but it comes and goes in waves, it seems. I’ve been trying so very hard to keep my focus on Jesus, the way He loves me, and showing that love to others. Yep, I screw it up every day, but I’m trying. I found this on my phone, however, and felt like it definitely needed to be shared. I go through times where I feel like this every now and then, and if even one person needs to see that they’re not alone in that, then I’m happy to share my bad times as well as my good. I wrote this at the end of March:
“I’m overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed with the things I think I have to do. I am overwhelmed by the pressure I feel as a mother to care for my child, make sure she eats (but not just anything, it HAS to be healthy -haha), keep our home clean and safe for her, and teach her what she needs to know, not just for development, but also laying a spiritual foundation and just teaching her to be a good human being. I’m overwhelmed with what I’m not doing to be a good wife. But then, as I sit here, I’m completely overwhelmed by the way God loves me. It’s not complicated. He doesn’t have a checklist of attributes He’s looking for in me or of things I absolutely must do before He will consider me loveable. In fact, I am very unlovable, but He still loves me anyway. And it’s not a worldly, shallow kind of love. It’s a supernatural kind of love that I can’t even begin to fathom. When I think about this, all the stuff just melts away.
Full disclosure – I started a new birth control the other day after being on the mini pill for like a year, so my hormones are all over the place. I’m happy one minute and crying the next. But, I’ve felt so attacked the last couple of days. I feel like people are judging me (more than usual), I feel like their words have hidden meaning (again, more than usual), and I’ve taken everything to mean the worst possible thing. Poor [hubby] can’t say anything to me without me twisting it to make him sound horrible and judgy. He’s just stopped saying anything, which also sets off my anxiety. I’ve felt worthless. I’ve felt inadequate. I’ve felt stupid. I’ve felt like my opinion didn’t matter.
Then I realized that I am being attacked, but not by the people around me. Satan is in full on attack mode right now, and I haven’t been handling it very well. I just wrote in my bible journal about this the other day. He always seems to use the people around me, and it stings worse than anything else. It’s so very personal. It gets to me, and he knows it. The thing is, it takes me longer than it should to realize what’s going on. I remember the spiritual battle going on around me only after being in the trenches of it for days. And even then, or now I should say, I still try to hold on to control. I still let satan tell me that it’s because there’s something wrong with me, because I’m not trying hard enough, I’m not strong enough. I see that I’m doing it, and I keep doing it. I keep letting him whisper those words to me, and I give them value.
My prayer is to be able to let go, completely. I want to be able to tell satan that I see what he’s doing, and it won’t work anymore. I want to feel victorious in Jesus, because he’s already won this war. I don’t have to fight this battle.”
coffeemamabogie 