I wrote this blog post on Monday, but was too overwhelmed to post it. Monday turned out to be better than I had expected, yesterday was also pretty good and today is going well so far, so things are seeming more manageable. I'm looking forward to the long weekend and visiting family and celebrating Easter with two little ones (one who is VERY excited about the Easter Bunny coming). While I'm hopeful that things may be turning around, I still feel that maybe this is important to share, mostly for myself, but perhaps also for others who are dealing with some of the same things...
It’s 9:00am on Monday and it feels like a bad day.
I was awake every two hours overnight, so that probably doesn’t help. I’m not upset about having to get up to nurse my baby. Just tired. So tired that I fell asleep while nursing her twice last night. That doesn’t usually happen. And while we’re not a co-sleeping family, I don’t mind having her warm little body nestled next to mine for a few hours while we drift in and out of our dreams. No, being up at night is not the issue.
Nor is it our children. Our boy. Full of energy. Playful and funny. Passionate and demanding. Our girl. Calm. Happy and sweet. Observant and somehow, despite only being three months old, understanding. I love them in a way that is impossible to describe. As I love my wife, my partner and co-parent. We are interdependent in the best of ways.
The issue is me. I know that I am not doing as well as I could be. I am not doing as well as these loves in my life deserve. I don’t seem able to stay on top of the simplest of things. The breakfast table is often still covered in crumbs at noon. The bed unmade until 4:30pm when I go in there to straighten the duvet and fluff the pillows before everyone gets home.
I should be able to do more and I should be able to do better. This is my contribution to our family. They deserve more and they deserve better.
I try. I try to make sure I’m reading to our little one. That she’s getting tummy time and songs and cuddled and cared for. But when I choose books I never feel like I’m choosing the right ones. At three months, does she still need high-contrast images? Photographs? Single words on each page or rhymes? You Are My Sunshine is “Sprout’s song”, as her brother now calls it. Do I sing it to her too often? She used to smile every time I sang it to her, now she only smiles sometimes. Does she know I’m sad? Is it bad to nurse a baby when you feel depressed? Are the chemicals making me feel this way being transferred to her while she eats. Am I doing her harm?
Yet she seems happy. She does look at me and break into the most beautiful toothless smile, her whole face lighting up. My sunshine. Maybe she knows that despite my shortcomings I do love her more than anything. I try to hold on to that thought. If she knows how much I love her, then surely I am doing one thing right.
So that's where I've been lately. Like I said, not everyday, but enough. The sun is starting to shine a little more brightly these days though and the snow is finally melting. I think I'm going to be okay.