Suffocating on Love

Are you suffocating momma?
Are those little hands wrapped around your heart too tight?

I know. Me too.
My head is swirling with:
“am I enough” 
“do you feel loved enough”
“am I ruining you”
“are you ok”
“am I ok.”

The babbling, whining, crying, singing. Sometimes it’s too much,  and I can’t think. I feel like I’m falling in love and drowning at the same time. My insides are going to explode there is so much emotion bubbling up in there. As you play at my feet, zooming your matchbox cars, I sip my coffee staring out the window. I feel so trapped and yet so happy. It’s as if every feeling is fighting to be at the forefront of my mind. And I’m the one whose losing.

I distract myself, I go for walks, I call my best friend, I try to do things just for me.  But it catches up to me. I can hide from it for awhile. I think I’m doing OK. “I’ve got this” I say. But there it is, just where I left it. This weight of motherhood. The love, fear, exhaustion. It nags at me until I’m drowning again. Every emotion is so raw, so real. I want to scream, run away,  hide from the responsibility. But then nap time ends, and I’m thrown back into the cycle.

Praying for direction, I can feel the clouds of confusion clear. I feel the pulse of something bigger than me, and I can feel the peace that passes all understanding. I’m living my dream, my answer to years of prayer. God granted me the desires of my heart. I get to wake up everyday and do something incredible. I get to raise my babies. I get to be their mom. And sometimes I think “I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS”! When in reality I did. I signed up for all of it. Once those two pink lines came into view I metaphorically signed my name on the dotted line.

God chose to give you small humans to raise as your own. He saw all this coming, he knew how you would do, and he saw the mistakes and victories and let you have not one, but two babies. He loves you, and so do they.

Chin up buttercup, you might think you can’t so this,  but you need to pause and  look around. You already are. It’s a glorious mess and you’re on the front lines. So breathe. I promise you won’t drown.

I’m Proud of You

By the end of my second pregnancy I was huge, tired, mentally drained, just hoping for a calm birth. After having contractions off and on all day my body kicked into hyper drive, we raced to the hospital and I had my daughter 20 min later, drug free and all. As I held her, I was so incredibly proud of myself that I had endured something I swore I couldn’t handle.
I’m going to breastfeed this baby
Holding her up to my chest, she latched on perfectly and I felt a wave of peace. I had done it. Finally. After being unsuccessful with my first, and having so many regrets from that, I felt I could finally be a “good” mom to my daughter.

After a few days had gone by my nipples were split in half and bleeding.
This was normal, just work on the latch.
I got mastitis twice. In two weeks. I had no energy for her or my 19 month old son.
This can happen, especially when you’re using the nipple shield.
I was pumping, trying to keep my supply up. I did everything in my power to fix myself, to keep going. She was feeding a lot and growing. I wasn’t. I was crying every day, I felt like a milking machine. I was losing all kinds of weight, just what wanted. I was feeding my baby via my body. Just what I had prayed for. All I felt was darkness. I dreaded every time she was hungry, every time she needed something. I wanted to run away and quit being a mom.
I didn’t realize at the time I had PPD big time, but I knew I wasn’t okay. I cried every day for 3 weeks straight, and I think I slept 10 hours during that time. But I was breastfeeding, doing the best for my baby. So it was worth it right? Sitting on my bed during a feeding, crying out to God I finally blubbered out,
I CANT do this
And then a little voice inside me said what I was really feeling:
I don’t WANT to do this
Sure I could continue, I could suck it up, but it wasn’t healthy. I wasn’t bonding with my daughter. And I know it was probably pretty traumatizing that every time she was hungry her mom was just sobbing and angry from the pain. I knew she could feel my stress. She didn’t soothe easily, she wasn’t sleeping much and I could tell she wasn’t happy either. I didn’t want to fail again, I thought. But then this occurred to me. What good is all this nutrition without the love and bonding from her mom. How is a year of breastfeeding going to be better than a happy healthy mom who loves her and is excited to meet all her needs. Who can nurture her mind and inspire her spirit. I wasn’t that mom right now, and I couldn’t be that mom when all my energy was being funneled into surviving the next feeding session.

So in that moment I chose myself over her. I chose my needs over hers for both our sake. I let myself “fail” at breastfeeding so I wouldn’t fail at being her mom. Being a parent means making really tough calls, and constantly choosing your kids needs over your own. But sometimes, its okay to choose yourself. As a mom who has now formula fed two babies, I can say I love it. It works for me, and it works for us as a family. I applaud moms who breastfeed, who love it. But for those moms who don’t, or cant, its okay! There should be no shame or judgment on you, ever. We’re all doing our best, we’re all in the trenches of motherhood with our infants and toddlers just trying to make it through the day with our messy buns and lukewarm coffee.
Whatever choices you make as a mom, and whichever direction that takes you, even if it’s away from the crowd, just make sure it’s one that allows you to look in the mirror every day, raccoon eyes and all and say to yourself:

I’m proud of you.

Quiet Storm

When I was in the Dominican there were nights like this. Quiet, stormy and thought provoking. The way the wind whipped my long blonde hair and tossed it around my face made me feel more alive than I had in a while. It was if it were saying “Come with me, I have wisdom to share with you.” I would sit in the rain letting the drops wash over my face hoping they would cleanse me of everything I had ever done. I longed to be a new person in that moment of healing. I hoped that when I returned home I would never be the same. That works for a little, but soon old habits come back and you forget about the you that stood in the rain and swore she would be different. And as I stand here now years later on the other side of the world I’m reminded of that night, that desire. I wonder why change is so hard to achieve in yourself, yet when you don’t wish for it to happen it seems nothing can stop it. I’ve learned it needs to be a daily event, hypothetically standing in the rain and decide I will be different. And perhaps one day I will make the me back then proud by being the woman I promised God I would be. Every battle worth winning is just that, a battle. And I refuse to loose this one, again.

I saw sparks…

That song. Coldplay gets it, and listening to Sparks today, my mind wanders back to when I first heard it. It was years ago, when I decided to accomplish everything I wanted. I made a poster with magazine clippings and hung it on my door, one piece of paper saying “You can get anything you want.” That became my motto. I was younger, dating, living with my parents, working two jobs, residing in a small uninteresting town. I wanted to live somewhere else, marry someone else, have babies, and live happily ever after. So I strived for that, everything I did had a purpose, a plan. I knew exactly what I wanted, and three years later, I got it. All of it. So here I sit, with my son playing in his Jumperoo, listening to a song from a different time, and I wonder where that driven girl went. Back then I didn’t have anything I wanted I thought; but I knew who I was. I took it for granted though, I was too busy trying to become someone else, and now that I am, I feel lost sometimes. I am who I imagined, but I’m still working through it. I’m a workaholic, flighty, spontaneous extrovert. I just haven’t seen that girl in a while; I doubt I will ever again. I’ve become a woman, and I have different responsibilities now, ones I wouldn’t trade for anything. Sometimes a peek into the past to see what got you here helps you appreciate the you back then, so you can move on to be who you are now.

Did I drive you away?
I know what you’ll say,
You say, “Oh, sing one we know”,
But I promise you this,
I’ll always look out for you,
That’s what I’ll do….

…I saw sparks…