Today Was Hard

Today was hard…she’s not sleeping well. She has never slept through the night, but had been doing so well and only waking up once. But the last few nights, she’s a newborn all over again. Fussing every few hours, round the clock feedings, and unknown distresses in her small body. I wake, in a sleepy stupor, and somehow find her and give her what she needs or wants and find my way back to the warm bed, only to wake up an hour later to start the day again.

Today was hard…it’s Christmas time and I’m running around like a headless chicken. And all I want to do is sit in my new house, with my Christmas tree lit up as the only lights in the house and lay with Audrey and Jason and admire the twinkling, read Audrey her very first Christmas story and watch the fire logs burn down until there’s nothing but ash. But rather, I’m shopping every night after work, feeding Audrey in the car on the run and rubbing blisters on my feet. I love the hustle and bustle of the season, but with a three-month old in tow, it takes on a whole new meaning. And even as I look for presents to buy for her (those she will never know she received), I question my own sanity.

Today was hard…being a working mom is hard. I’m exhausted. The full days, the long nights. The pumping. The every three hours is wearing me down, making me want to wean her off breastfeeding and throw my hands in the air in surrender. I can’t do this. I can’t do it all. I need someone else to be doing what I do every three hours. I’m tired of feeling embarrassed every time I wash the breast pump bottles in my office sink, with my colleagues coming in and out, peeking but not saying out of respect, which I appreciate. Life on a three hour rotation is hard. And washing bottles every night just sucks.

Today was hard…I ate fried chicken last night, definitely not on the approved postpartum diet. And the night before I ate fajitas. And the night before I ate spaghetti. And the night before I ate Taco Bell. And the night before that Wendy’s. It’s only from running out of time. I can’t get to the grocery store, I can’t/don’t have time to cook. I haven’t packed Jason a lunch since I went back to work, meaning he eats all the same junk as me. It’s not far, it’s not fun and it’s not healthy. But after all that goes on in one day, how am I supposed to get dinner on the table too? Seriously!?

Today was hard…it’s only 9:15 am and I’ve already been to the bathroom to cry it out once. I know it gets easier, I know it gets better. But right now, it feels endless, and it feels raw and I feel guilty. Because it’s not sweet Audrey’s fault. Without me and Jason, she wouldn’t survive. How can I feel stressed while taking care of something we were so very blessed with and love with our every ounce of our bodies? She is smiling and squealing and makes all the stress amazingly worth it. But in the middle of it right now, it feels dark and I feel not enough.

Today was just hard.