Hi beloveds, I wanted to check in to let those of you who’ve messaged know that we are sti
Hi beloveds, I wanted to check in to let those of you who’ve messaged know that we are still alive and kicking. Emphasis on the kicking. Oh sisters. Damn. You know that hashtag #momstrong? I didn’t quite get it until recently. Now I get it. You see, first, there is simply strong, which is closely followed by warrior - a compilation of Russell Crowe in Gladiator and Gerard Butler in 300. Next, we move on to something akin to Optimus Prime level, which is superseded only by the world-annihilating meteor, whereupon we FINALLY come close enough to get a peek at the very top of the strong tower – MomStrong. Having spent fifteen years caring for young babies, I knew the monotony and the heart-swelling tenderness in equal measure, yet being a nanny in no way prepared me for motherhood, simply because at the end of the day, you GIVE THE CHILD BACK. No such thing is possible when it’s your own child - believe me, I’ve looked into it. Multiple times. Although the architecture down yonder has changed, it remains clear Hazel came with just the single one-way ticket. In all my years rearing babies, I never came upon a child like her. She doesn’t stop. Not even when she is forced to, overtaken by just enough sleep to keep her alive, during which she kicks and flails as though riding an invisible bull. She sleeps for maybe 30 minutes at a time, which gives me just long enough to down a Power Bar and prepare for the next 2-hour sprint. It’s insanity, 24/7 insanity. In full disclosure, I’m a wreck. The other day, after my child had been fed and changed and burped and snuggled (unwillingly) and swaddled, and still would NOT sleep, I removed the heat pack from my throbbing, inflamed fibromyalgic shoulders, and BEAT IT against the banister hard enough to rip the stuffing. No . . not my most graceful moment, though, can we agree it was a win, since it WASN’T the baby? Hell yeah, we will. If you’re up for it, share your least graceful moment? Because I think this is how Love Wins. I’m a mess. A flaming, smoking, boiling hot mess. Though enough of me remains that I remember We Belong To Each Other, that Showing Up is EVERYTHING, and messy and broken is still beautiful. -- source link
#momstrong