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He knows something’s up

My son has been a little more clingy recently. He stands right next to my chair when I’m working. He’s constantly leaning on me. Or climbing into my chair and standing just behind my shoulder. Or crawling up into my lap.

He knows something’s going on. And that time is short.

It is short. As of Tuesday (the 19th – I started writing this earlier in the week) I have less than FIVE WEEKS to get ready for Baby M’s appearance. I still haven’t dug any of the supplies out of the garage. We have a few diapers on hand. My Moby wrap is in the closet but probably needs to be washed. The bed is still in the garage. Everything is. On top of that we have a ton of other laundry to get caught up on. I am so far behind it isn’t funny. I wish I could take a week off of work to prepare, but we can’t afford that right now.

Nesting? Yes. Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy that accompanies my long lists of what needs to be done.

Back to the boy. He’s grabbing as much mommy time as he can. No complaints here. Mostly. I love it, even as I’m stressing about the work I’m not getting done because he wants to visit my lap repeatedly throughout the day. Soon we won’t have the together time that we do now. Soon he won’t want hugs and kisses from mommy. Soon I’ll be too busy nursing his little brother to cuddle every morning while he watches Elmo’s World. And as much as I’m looking forward to meeting little M, it breaks my heart that I’ll lose the time where it has just been me and the Boobah. I will miss this, even as I anticipate all the good to come.

Crying game

Motherhood changes you. It shifts something in your core, tinges how you look at things. I never realized the deep fundamental difference it would make down to my soul.

I sat here, at my desk tonight, sobbing unexpectedly. A short scene on TV reduced me to tears in a brief 30 seconds. Even now, just the memory brings tears to my eyes.

I am not the person I once was. I could watch movies and TV shows without a second thought. Oh sure, things sometimes scared me or disturbed me. But I could distract myself (oooh, something shiny!) and move on.

Not any more.

I was watching Leverage on TNT. It’s new to us, but I’m really beginning to like it. There was a scene in which one of the main characters talked about his son, who died when a treatment was denied. Just them talking about it wasn’t too bad.

But when they flashed to the scene where he remembered his son dying, showed him running into the room to hold his son in his arms after the heart monitors flatlined? I broke down. I sobbed that ugly way when you’re so upset you can hardly breathe, your head pounding from the intensity of it.

Because I think of parents who have lost their children too soon, and then I get a little scared, worrying about my boobah. Wondering how anyone gets through something like that. And not wanting to ever, ever find out.

I’ve always been a little emotional. I cry at movies, poignant scenes, even those darn tissue commercials that were on for a while.

But this? Is something deeper. Something that strikes my core. I can’t bear to watch a child in danger, hurt, or killed. I can’t even read about it. I read Deep End of the Ocean several years ago. I doubt I could handle it now.

Does it ever get easier? This paralyzing fear? This crippling emotion that grips your head and your heart? Is there a way to get through motherhood intact? I don’t know.

still struggling

I told my group at work that I was leaving. We’ve had the same core of people for quite a while now, and they’re like a bit of family to me. We’ve shared so many things. They’ve been with me when I got married, graduated college, and had a baby. We’ve had parties, eaten a lot of food, and laughed together. They are a large part of why I enjoyed my job so much. And I feel like I’m breaking up with them.

I guess I am.

That saddens me. I couldn’t keep from tearing up as they came by and said they’ll miss me. Even though we all know it’ll be a little while until they find someone. It still hurts. I still feel forced to make a decision I didn’t want to make. I didn’t want to leave.


In the motherhood

baby and meBefore the Wee One, my best friend used to tell me how much being a mom changes you. I only half believed her because I was already a mom. Sort of. That’s not to say step-moms are not moms. They are. It’s just different.

But then I had my own kid and my heart opened even further. I wish I had known how to open it like this sooner. Don’t misunderstand – I love my step-daughter. She is my kid as far as I’m concerned. But I wish I’d been more patient, more understanding. Because I feel more patient, calmer, and maybe just a tiny bit wiser. And I wish she’d gotten some of the benefit from this.

Even when I’m having a bad day, stressed to the core, I look at that little boy and things get better. I stop, and I smile at him to make sure he doesn’t just see a frowning mama all the time. I want him to remember joy from his childhood. A sense of well-being. Security.

Being a mom has really, truly changed me. I knew I had a capacity for love, but I didn’t know how deep it was. I’ve always felt a bit selfish. But there’s no getting by with that now. My needs are minor compared to someone who depends on me for their very existence. Oh, I still try to fit in taking care of myself when I can, but most of his needs take precedence. They just do. I’m the one that has to learn balance, not him.

My heart feels bigger (as do my hips, but that’s a story for another time). I’m learning not to sweat the small stuff, like the river of poop that landed in my lap today when the kid had a diaper blowout (around his leg – how does that happen?). I am finally able to stop and ask myself “Will this matter tomorrow? Next week?” And the little things rarely will.

Being a mom is wonderful, amazing, and hard as can be. I still frequently feel frazzled, like I’m not getting anything done. Or at least, not enough. J has been incredibly helpful in that regard. And understanding.

So my friend was right. Motherhood has changed me. And I’m pretty sure it’s for the better.