We have to take the time necessary to process our feelings. We women can't be rushed. Write that down. It's important to process your emotion, how you feel about circumstances or trauma. Until it's processed, it eats the interior of your soul and given time, can crush your spirit.
Deal with your emotion. Always. It is the only choice to make. Do not put a pin in it. Do not table it indefinitely.
My life as you may know is currently unraveling in emotion, personal distress, and physical chaos. As of today, my body is no longer able to physically bear children. My family was complete, in my mind, several years ago, but it does not allay the subsequent sadness that accompanies a final reality.
Our family is a hot mess right now. Ryan blew into town for the weekend, from Phoenix, bringing with him some type of flu bug. I fought hard all weekend against any such disease so as not to delay my procedure for a second time. Noah succumbed. Poor, sweet Noah who has the regular immunity of a horse, was hard hit. Man down. He has been worrying all evening about missing a second day of school. I understand his duress. Ryan is going out of town in the morning, so I rallied him, as patient zero, to help me change the bedding, clean the bathroom and Lysol the teenage room. I'm still trying not to succumb to germs on top of surgical difficulty. I'm also attempting to keep Aaron clear of it, but he prefers to take tommorow off school thank you very much, and he has declined vitamin support.
Today's recovery has been more difficult than I anticipated. My doctor said: "You'll be fine with some Ibuprofen." Well. If you mean by an entire bottle of such, okay agreed. All the while, juggling laundry; flu bug detox; dishes that amount when nobody cares about life; emptying garbage and pushing fluids and pills; both for myself and others, I'm thinking that I'm due to high school orientation this week, and I will have no more babies. My life is chaotic and precious; my girl parts have always been an issue, but God still blessed me with two amazing sons, and the ride ever draws nears an end. It's a hot mess that I have been privileged to manage, and one that is denied to some. My arms feel the slightest bit empty of sweet baby smiles and cuddles as my aching insides yearn for relief.
I see the night when I broke my foot as Ryan prepared to deploy with his unit for Operation Iraqi Freedom. It was the night of Aaron's second birthday. I have very strict rules that all kids must begin potty training by 2 - no exceptions. Broken bones and missing husbands included. It is pure parental nonsense that one "wait until the child is ready" for toilet training. You wait much past the beginning stages of two, my friend, and you are in for a battle of endless wills that will have you changing large sized, kucka smelling poop diapers and wishing you had the foresight to begin earlier. Aaron gave me a run for my money. Literally. He ran all over the house peeing, quite gleefully, while I chased him on crutches. It was a hot mess. But in three weeks I was still the boss and his little buns were faithfully seated on the toilet. And I was still on crutches.
I see the night we brought Noah home from the hospital. We were terrible parents. (I was.) He never stopped crying and I was thinking we might want to send him back. New parents are exhausted. It takes a lot of hours, physical pain, little rest, and little sustenance to bring a baby forth. Once that precious bundle is in your arms, it does not cease to demand. I gave up, friends. I'm not proud but on that night in question, I gave up. I turned the bright light on right in Ryan's face, laid the baby on him, and I said: "Here is your son, do something with him." And I promptly went to sleep.
I see the night when I broke my foot as Ryan prepared to deploy with his unit for Operation Iraqi Freedom. It was the night of Aaron's second birthday. I have very strict rules that all kids must begin potty training by 2 - no exceptions. Broken bones and missing husbands included. It is pure parental nonsense that one "wait until the child is ready" for toilet training. You wait much past the beginning stages of two, my friend, and you are in for a battle of endless wills that will have you changing large sized, kucka smelling poop diapers and wishing you had the foresight to begin earlier. Aaron gave me a run for my money. Literally. He ran all over the house peeing, quite gleefully, while I chased him on crutches. It was a hot mess. But in three weeks I was still the boss and his little buns were faithfully seated on the toilet. And I was still on crutches.
I see the night we brought Noah home from the hospital. We were terrible parents. (I was.) He never stopped crying and I was thinking we might want to send him back. New parents are exhausted. It takes a lot of hours, physical pain, little rest, and little sustenance to bring a baby forth. Once that precious bundle is in your arms, it does not cease to demand. I gave up, friends. I'm not proud but on that night in question, I gave up. I turned the bright light on right in Ryan's face, laid the baby on him, and I said: "Here is your son, do something with him." And I promptly went to sleep.
I see so many nights as I reflect and process my emotion. One wild adventure of motherhood that had a clear beginning and now has a definitive end. Oh, indeed my time with the title "Mother" continues, because someone will have to call a teenager off school tomorrow and do more laundry and try to make some food. But the window has closed on the past. The window that brings love to life and gives the night owls human company.
A beautiful season closed today.
I feel a sense of loss for what was. How is it that far back in memory?
I feel anxiety for the limited time ahead. Am I still a terrible parent, do they know what they need to know?
I feel intense joy for what has been mine. "Can we do it all over again? One more of those disgusting slobber "sugar" kisses that only a mother loves?
I have a precious and chaotic life with one handsome husband who does battle for me, who stands alongside in the parental trenches, and who today called me beautiful in all my haggard post-op ugliness. You can't put a price on that.
I have a precious and chaotic life with Noah Ryan and Aaron Michael, aged 14 and 12, respectively. I remember much and I forget much about the days of our lives. I do know that welcoming these two into my heart was so very easy and launching them will be the most difficult thing I will do.
"How very special are we, for just a moment to be, part of life's eternal rhyme....."
A beautiful season closed today.
I feel a sense of loss for what was. How is it that far back in memory?
I feel anxiety for the limited time ahead. Am I still a terrible parent, do they know what they need to know?
I feel intense joy for what has been mine. "Can we do it all over again? One more of those disgusting slobber "sugar" kisses that only a mother loves?
I have a precious and chaotic life with one handsome husband who does battle for me, who stands alongside in the parental trenches, and who today called me beautiful in all my haggard post-op ugliness. You can't put a price on that.
I have a precious and chaotic life with Noah Ryan and Aaron Michael, aged 14 and 12, respectively. I remember much and I forget much about the days of our lives. I do know that welcoming these two into my heart was so very easy and launching them will be the most difficult thing I will do.
"How very special are we, for just a moment to be, part of life's eternal rhyme....."
No comments:
Post a Comment