It’s after I recklessly pace through my kitchen and dining room. After I run to the basement and slam the lid of the washer and stand watching the colors of our clothes spin together, wishing the noise of the washer and dryer would drown it out.
The baby is crying and I can’t figure out why.
And I had to leave him and walk away, for a moment to catch my breath.
I know the books tell you that you’re a good mom if you know yourself well enough to know when to walk away.
The raw truth?
You feel like a total, bumbling, flailing flop.
Some moms choose to let the baby cry it out, but I can’t stand it. My greatest mothering fear is that my boy will feel abandoned. I just need a moment to collect myself and draw an ounce of strength.
His cries escalate and I climb the stairs.
I wish I felt strong, but I know it.
That I’m really just hanging on to a thin thread.
The baby falls asleep eventually, but it’s too late for a quiet moment on the couch.
And that makes me angry.
“I’m trying to be a good mom, here, God. Don’t you see me?” I call Ryan in tears and I tell him, “I’m done with this mom thing. Finished. I want out.”
Yes, can you believe it? I really, really, really said that.
Later that night, we talk while the baby sleeps in the green room across the hallway, and I sit on the floor and he’s laying on the bed listening.
I’m crying again and I’m telling him everything I feel…
Tired and weary and sick of thinking up creative activities for busy toddlers.
Totally done with whining.
Desperate for space to breathe, to do something I enjoy just because I want to do it.
Completely over cooking. Why do we have to eat anyways?
“Am I just selfish? I don’t want to be?”
I’m in survival mode right now.
How on earth do you live in survival mode?
What do you do, when you’re hanging onto life by a thin thread? Wishing you had more time?
Time to breathe.
Time to actually do the things you need to do.
Sometimes there’s just not even enough time for that.
You move forward.
Forward. Into. Life.
Praying the whole time.
Repenting when anger gets the better of you.
Surrendering your grip.
Letting go in order to receive.
More coming tomorrow…if there’s time.