Ooft, summer has finally arrived in our part of the world. A sweltering 30 degrees Celsius might not seem like much to some of you but over here it’s stifling. As a population we’re not designed for this level of warmth. We have a more amphibious approach to weather. Sideways rain is just an average Tuesday, waterproofs and wellies are a wardrobe must have, whatever the season. Either way the heat doesn’t agree with us, especially husband. The only way I can describe his mood is like watching King Kong trying to peel a hard boiled egg. LO has been a little bit better, just keep him distracted and pop him in a tepid bath at the end of the day and he seems okay.
That being said, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. I don’t know if it’s because LO has more teeth coming through or if he’s finally figured out that I’m making this all up as I go along, but he’s been yelling at me for weeks. I cried most days, entered survival mode at least three times and on one occasion I got so overwhelmed I had to put him in his high chair and go into the garden. I cried on our lawn, huge heaving sobs as though there was no air left in the world.
I’ve been home for almost 18 months. In that time I’ve gotten pregnant, worked from home, missed out on promotions, there were no big announcements or baby showers, I sloped off on maternity leave without ceremony, I went more than eight months without seeing my siblings, I’ve been alone with LO every day since Christmas, give or take, and I’ve only been away from my baby for 17 hours total. The walls were definitely closing in.
I know what I’m capable of. I’ve endured all levels of hardship but this, this has been so difficult. Like all mothers, I want to be the best mum I can possibly be, I want my son to grow up knowing how loved he is and that everything I did, I did for him. But as I sat on my kitchen floor hiding my puffy, tear covered face I honestly didn’t know if I could keep this up. What if I’m not built for this? What if I’ve used up and wasted all my strength and I have nothing left to give him?
It’s taken a few days of me reflecting, taking some time and being kind to myself to realise that I’m going to be okay, and what’s more important is he’ll be okay. He’s started crawling, cruising and eating table food. He’s chunky and funny and laughs when I dance.
It’s all going to be okay.
I’ve realised I need to make myself ask for help, to vocalise my worries and my stress. To prioritise myself once in a while and allow myself those moments of doubt and fear without feeling ashamed. Sounds easy, but it’s a work in progress.
Coming here and reading all your posts and sharing your worries and questions has helped tremendously. Finger food, bad sleep, teething, difficult family. We’re all doing the best we can with what we have to give. It’s so lonely, desperately lonely at times. Everything comes and goes, we’ve gotten through the 4th trimester, sleep regressions, weaning, teething and so much more together.
I guess what I’m saying is thank you, for being these little icons and usernames on a screen reminding me I’m not alone. Popping my head above the parapet, looking across no mans land is terrifying, but knowing you’re all in the trenches with me too is so monumentally comforting. So much so, my white flag can stay folded just a little while longer.