UPDATE: First of all, thank you all so very much for the encouraging words. Between comments on the blog, on facebook, and messages and emails, I am feeling very loved. I appreciate it. Also, thanks to some encouraging and just forceful enough nudging, I have scheduled a doctor’s appointment for next week, just to check all my hormone levels and the like. I will either keep you updated, or not keep you updated (those ARE the only options, I guess) depending on how I feel. But I just wanted to let you know that your words have been so uplifting to me in a tough time. I wish I could have thanked you each personally, but considering the fact that the post was about how I can’t do the things I need/want to do, well, I’m sure you understand this mass update and thank you. 🙂 Merry Christmas, all.
I think I thought this would be different. Being a mom, I mean.
Oh, I didn’t think it would be perfect, I didn’t think it’d be all warm, fuzzy, and magical. But I have always wanted to be a mom, and it turns out, my body isn’t loving it as much as I want to.
I know that I should be grateful. I had a smooth pregnancy, and a birth without complications. I’ve been able to nurse Eliza without struggle. She has no food allergies so I’ve been able to eat much the way I always have. But with each week that passes, it gets harder. My body evidently hates being a mom, and is wreaking havoc on me hormonally.
Dramatic, I know, yes. But it’s how I feel. And if I’m going to just write, that’s what’s going to come out.
I read this blog a few times where this mom of three writes that “jeans and a t-shirt are not an option”. Jeans and a t-shirt? Try “pajamas are not an option” and you’re getting a little closer to where I live. More like “pajamas are not an option unless you feel like brushing your teeth is too much today, and then pajamas are totally an option. Just please brush the teeth.”
I try to get things done in the morning before I run out of energy. I try not to sit down so I won’t shut down. But some days, like yesterday and today, I wake up with no energy, and therefore nothing gets done. I mean, I did wash some dishes yesterday. And today I swept the floor. And that may be all I accomplish.
I want to try to take care of myself, but I can’t. I want to try to take care of my family, but I can’t. I want to keep the house clean and neat, but I can’t. I’m not kidding. I can’t. The verse “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me” is taking on new meaning. “All things” means not dying. Not shriveling up mentally. It means being present for Eliza during the day. It means baking bread, if that’s the only thing that will bring me joy today. It has not, up to this point, meant that I am able to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. It has not meant that I get my life under control any of the hundred times a week I decide that I’m going to. It has not meant just shaking off this depression or fatigue, or whatever, or just not being lazy (which is how I feel).
I am crying, writing this, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to learn from this. I feel like this season must mean something, it must produce something, or it’s a complete waste (thanks, America, for that). The problem is that I don’t know that there’s exactly something to learn or (more fundamentally scary) do in this. And don’t we all feel the need to be productive, to be proactive, to learn and grow and do and accomplish? But isn’t the truth (the real, down deep truth) that I can never do enough, be enough, or bring enough, and that there is grace, grace for that?
I must rest. I must let go of this need to be perfect, to control my life, to be productive (because let’s face it…it’s not happening). I must just be. And I cannot do even that on my own.
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”