Hitting the Wall

In the beginning, motherhood seemed easy. After hearing horror stories of colicky babies who screamed all night, I had spent 9 months preparing myself (or at least attempting) for the possibility of numerous sleepless nights, and a long road back to my pre-pregnancy self.
Instead I was gifted with a baby who slept thru the night at two weeks old. Two months post-partum, I was back in my pre-baby jeans and resuming the routine that I had developed prior to Joycelen’s arrival.

And then life hit. I went back to work – and discovered increased responsibilities which translated into needing to work longer hours. I thought I could solve the situation by simply getting up early, so my 7:00 a.m. wake up became a 6:00 a.m. Sure, I was a little groggy in the morning, and some days I needed a caffeine i.v. – but the house was clean, I was at the gym 4-5 times per week, and M had clean clothes and supper every night.

April came, and along with it the start of blueberry season. My days grew longer as M needed my help in taking the picked berries to town, or preparing for the next’s days picking. I was no longer in bed by 10:00 p.m. – instead it was 11:00 p.m. or later. This made the 6:00 a.m. wake up more difficult, but nothing that a Pepsi Max with breakfast couldn’t overcome. I still felt in control. Each night I took pleasure in seeing the items marked thru on my to-do list --- clean house, happy baby, etc. I was so wrapped up in activity that I failed to see that I was really accomplishing very little.

Then M’s superintendent left the $8 million project they were working. My husband, who normally left the house at 6:00 a.m. after taking the morning feeding, was now leaving at 4:30. Our conversations had dwindled to mumbled goodbyes in the pre-dawn hours, and quick I love you’s at night before exhaustion took us over.

Last week, I hit a wall. The morning started out like any other morning. Joycelen began stirring in her crib about 6:00 a.m. I stumbled out of bed, and with bleary eyes prepared her bottle. She took the first ounce without a problem. She burped and I prepared to feed her the second ounce – this is when she began to scream, and scream, and scream. 15 minutes of screaming for no apparent reason. All of my attempts to calm her failed. Soon, I found myself curled up in my bed crying while I listened to her cry in the bassinet. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t” I yelled out loud.

And just like that, Joycelen’s screams ceased. She lay in her bassinet happily gurgling. I called M and said “I’m not happy. Things have to change.” As he drove into work, we talked about why I was unhappy – M pointed out that I could not do everything by myself….I am not super woman. I told him that I understood – that I was simply going threw the motions and not appreciating the moments. Together, we came up with a plan on improving the situation.

The plan started last Saturday night, when I left Joycelen’s in M’s care and went to Savannah for my best friend’s bachelorette party. Prior to the “wall”….I would have texted constantly reminding M of Joyclen’s schedule, things that needed to be done around the house, etc. Instead, I texted him to let him know I had arrived safely, texted at Joycelen’s bed time….and then I put the phone away and danced, laughed, and for a few hours celebrated being me – not a mom, not a wife, just a woman who loves spending time with old friends.

On Sunday, I returned refreshed. I rushed into the house and scooped up my daugheter, smothering her with kisses. I didn’t care about the dirty dishes in the sink, M’s socks on the living floor, or the things I would need to tackle on Monday. I was basking in the love of my family.

This week is going to test my new plan – as in addition to my usual responsibilities, our church is hosting VBS. Two days in and I am tired but not harried… I have allowed my MIL to take Joycelen a few hours in the evening so that M and I can tend to farm business. And I no longer feel as though I am failing because I need help.

Motherhood is not as easy as I thought it was going to be. But I am learning that it is not nearly as difficult if I am willing to ask for help. Being a super mom does not mean being a super woman…….it means just being there.