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I have a new baby. He’s just over 6 weeks old. And he’s gorgeous and darling…and it’s all so difficult.
It’s so hard to admit…when things are hard. I want to pretend. Not just because it looks good, but it feels good, too. I don’t do it very well, though…pretend. I just crack after a few hours of talking in a sing songy voice and telling myself it’s just a “season.”
What does that mean anyway? It’s just a season. Does that really make anyone feel better. Don’t get me wrong, I say it to myself. But it doesn’t help because then I just yell back from the other side of my brain “BUT it’s still happening!” This season is now and I’m tired of the acorns thumping me on the head. Eh. I know I sound ridiculous.
I do find another cliche to be completely accurate, though. “When it rains, it pours.” For me, truer words were never spoken. It is always on the day that the baby is gassy, Coltan is fussy, I’m moody, I get peed on and spit up on, the dog pees in the house…it is on THAT day that I also step on a matchbox car, can’t fall asleep at night and trip up the stairs. This is just plain truth.
So I consider myself to be coping. Gosh, I hate how that sounds, because I looooooove my kids and am so in loooooove with Sam. But truth be told, these infant weeks are so hard. And then life throws more layers on top of it and you just find your self closing your eyes and shaking your head like”What in the world. No one person can possibly take this!.” And then tomorrow comes…another week goes by. We keep moving because that’s what we do. That’s what I’m doing. I’m coping but you know…I think I’m doing it pretty well.
