Monday, February 24, 2014

Blob Along if You Know the Words

I worked from home most of my weekend.  I stayed up late.  I charged ahead as quickly as I could to feel less daunted by the week ahead and all the additional tasks it would hold.  Last night, around 11, I called it.  You don't mess around with Sunday nights.  There's a certain amount of "sleep" that has to happen to feel capable of tackling something as daunting as Monday morning. 

Ten minutes later, I was settling underneath the comforter, breathing a deep sigh of exhausted relief, when the baby started screaming.  And I was hanging over the side of the Pack N Play, shushing, patting, running out of ideas at 2AM.  She screamed.  She dozed off.  She flailed awake, and we would start over.  Finally, at 2:45AM, Hubby managed to get her sleep.  Then he managed to get her in her bed.  And then she woke up 15 minutes later.

This morning, I woke up angry.  After a broken three hours of sleep, I didn't have a whole lot of emotional padding to start my Monday morning.  Baby smiled at me.  I looked away.  Baby said "HI!"  I muttered it back, but it was clear my heart wasn't in it.  She nursed, and I prayed she would fall back asleep.  She did not.  Instead, she sat up and emphatically signed "ALL DONE!"  She was ready to start the day.  I was not.  I just lay there.  We stared at each other.  She signed again.  I was paralyzed by my own overwhelming exhaustion.  I had no idea how I was going to possibly get out of bed.  She signed again, clearly growing impatient.  I wanted to cry through my rampant emotions.  She did cry.  I scooped her up, and we went to change her soggy overnight diaper.

I was still angry.  I did not feel like a mom today.  I felt like an angry, exhausted, defeated blob.  As soon as the words formed in my mind, I knew they were not true, but it didn't matter.  They were heavy, dramatic words that matched my heavy, raw emotions.  I texted them to my husband.  I sent them to my friends.  I sent those heavy words out into the world, and I hoped they would weigh less if someone else helped me carry them.  It must have worked.  I started to notice all the things Blob Mom had accomplished this morning.  The baby was up.  Her diaper was clean.  She was fed.  She was happily playing with her toys.  No matter how blobular I felt, I had mom'ed the crap out of this morning anyways.

Sometimes being a mom is just doing what has to be done, even if your heart isn't in it.  Sometimes it's faking a smile until your emotions can thaw just a little bit--just enough--to allow you to see the miracle sitting in front of you.  Sometimes it's just pulling yourself out of bed.  Sometimes it's managing to nurse, change a diaper, and fix breakfast as a big fat blob (hey, that's pretty advanced blob behaviour!).  Sometimes being a mom is just being real with yourself until you can feel  like yourself.  And you will.

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