I went back to work this week. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until I arrived in the studio Monday morning. I love my job…I’ve told you that before. It’s actually a de-stressing environment. I think stay-at-home moms are superstars.
I’ve been off dairy now for three weeks to try quell Paisley’s colic. Kinda helped. Not really. I’ll switch to formula soon if I have to. I quit caffeine for about the past six days and it’s made quite a difference.
Until today. Today was terrible. I can’t even sugar-coat it.
Life goes on, of course–we took Finn to therapy where he’s learning to use the RGO to walk.
He’s incredible, really. We returned library books. Went on a walk. Finn and I washed the cars. Played trains (thanks, Eli!). Took baths…all to the tune of Paisley’s crying. I think there was maybe an hour total today when she wasn’t red-faced mad.
I paced the driveway for the last 20 minutes. Joey is doing some college ministry thing this evening, so I’m solo. I bopped barefoot, up and down the cracking concrete in snakelike rows like a soldier, battling the war inside her. Praise Jesus for the breeze from the south, drying our sweat. I prayed to the Father with furrowed brow as neighbors drove past. “Lord give us peace and rest. Peace and rest. Peace and rest..” She finally relented.
This is hard stuff. People told Joey and I that marriage would be hard. Unbearable at times; that we’d have to choose daily to continue despite the struggle. We have our issues, for sure, but I could never relate to that sentiment. Marriage honestly hasn’t been that hard for us.
This, however, is hard. I’m forced to choose by the minute to bite my tongue and dispel my anxiety, anger and frustration.
Maybe you can’t relate; maybe your babies were content and snuggly. Finn sure was. If that’s the case for you, thank the Lord. Right now. Thank Him. Because I wouldn’t wish these “witching hours” on my worst enemy. They make you feel insane.
Now, I know we have friends who would relieve us, and we’ve reached out a few times when desperate. But honestly, I feel like a wuss. I have friends with three and four kids to juggle. Friends who’s husbands are away for months at a time. And I’m sorry, but I’m just not calling anyone last minute on a Friday night to come “hang out with me while my child screams.” Maybe it’s my pride, but I feel like we should be able to do this on our own. I want to be able to calm my child…it feels like a mother’s right, you know? If anyone should be able to soothe their baby, it’s momma.
I want my home to be a place of rest. Calm. Comfort. Maybe that sounds boring to you, but that’s home to me. Somewhere my family feels safe; like we can just be. We had finally found a groove with Finn, but now our routine, our schedule and our sleep patterns are uprooted. My diet is restricted and my housekeeping is pathetic. Releasing control has always been difficult for me, probably since I was in the womb. But there is no other option. So here I am, palms open, relinquishing control once again. We can do this…one deep breath at a time.
Gotta go…she’s starting again.