I was snuggling my youngest on the couch, savoring her sweetness, drinking in the moment. They are only little for such a short while, and I can feel her babyhood beginning to slip away. I stroked her pudgy little cheek, her downy hair, breathed in that little bit of baby scent that still clings to her. And for a moment, that painful longing seeped into my heart for another.
If everything had been different, my husband and I would be considering the next baby right now. If I could care for the ones we have. If my own body hadn’t turned against me and stolen from us this choice. If only.
It’s difficult to express, because I don’t want another, not really. Pregnancy was terrible for me, it broke my body in ways that only God can heal. As much as I love nursing, I long for some autonomy. I’m ready to wean my last one and move on to the next stage of our life as a family. But oh, to cherish the fantasy, just for a minute, of nuzzling a soft, fuzzy newborn again. Seeing that first smile, sharing the first laugh, those darling first steps… I feel something strange, something like grief, anger at my body. I feel chastised because then that seems like anger at God for putting me in this body, but that’s not it, not really, I don’t think. This is all so confusing, so conflicting, I just want to sweep it under the rug and paint on a smile, but that has never worked out well for me. So head-first into these feelings I go. Here they are in their imperfection and rawness. Do you understand them?
I went grocery shopping by myself today. Pushed a full cart up and down the aisles. It seems like such a little thing, an ordinary, any day kind of thing. But for me, today, it was special. A little taste of normal. I felt like me. Trying to strike that delicate balance between healthy and affordable, just like old times. I bought a few simple staples and daydreamed about making regular meals for my family again. Simple things filled my cart, spaghetti noodles, a carton of OJ, nothing exciting, at least not for you. It feels good to feel just a little bit normal, just for a little while again.
is why I’ve been a little quiet lately. Well, part of the reason anyway. I caught it in the early stages so it is reversible, just have to take it easy on the typing for a while. Recovery from surgery is going well, had a minor setback but really nothing to worry about. Let’s just say dealing with a clingy feverish baby in the middle of the night during night sweats is, um, difficult? Unpleasant? You do the math on that one. But we got through it, and after a few days for Mommy and baby to recover we are all doing OK again. I may be able to return to work part-time soon, covering that decision in prayer and would appreciate any of you joining me. God is doing some great things here, oh how I wish I could tell you more. Please pray. I have learned after many years to recognize the attacks of the Devil, and to know that means we are doing exactly what we are supposed to. Pray no weapon formed against this family would prosper.
If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you may remember that a few months ago my husband lost his job and we lost our house. We moved into a one bedroom apartment with our children and pets. While this is certainly not ideal, we’ve experienced some unexpected benefits. To save space, we bought my son a loft bed that has a bookshelf and play space underneath and put it in the living room. He thinks having his bed in the living room is SO COOL. He’s never been a good sleeper, but he has slept better and slept in his own bed more consistently since we moved than he ever has in his short life. The cats like to sleep on his bed now since it is up high, which has helped them warm up to him and is also super cute. It’s much easier to put him to bed on the nights when he falls asleep on the couch; his bed is only two feet away instead of up a flight of stairs. And all of the children get to enjoy the playspace under his bed freely, since it is in the shared family area. They call it “the cave.”
Some other surprise benefits: our upstairs neighbors got a swingset for the back yard, which our children are free to use any time. They have LOVED it. The upstairs neighbors also have a dog who is good with kids, so they have become best buds. And really, although it is a little cramped and often feels a bit crowded, we’ve been very happy here. The kids don’t seem to mind the small quarters most of the time, usually only when the weather’s been nasty and we’ve been trapped inside a lot. God’s grace has covered us during this lean time, and we are blessed.
First, a praise for the glory of God: I have only needed one pain pill in the past two days. Feeling SO much better. I really turned a corner yesterday morning. And now, the subject of this post: Mood Swings. I’ve had to laugh at myself a little bit. I kind of feel like a teenager again, but this time at least I understand why I am having these strange feelings. In the past day alone, I have gotten irrationally angry and weepy over something that happened over a decade ago, and over my underwear not being put away right. Seriously, brain?! These things are not the end of the world! I know, rationally, it doesn’t really matter how my underwear is put away as long as I can find a clean pair, right? So why did I feel like stomping around, breaking things and yelling like a crazy person? Because I am now a crazy person. Welcome to life without estrogen, brain, it’s going to be a long, interesting ride.
Let me overshare with you a little bit. I think that word, overshare, is overused, by the way. This whole entry will probably be kind of disjointed, but lately, so am I. I now “get” the menopause fog, the “senior moments,” and let me tell you, if I wasn’t expecting this, didn’t know what was happening to me, I would think I was losing my very few remaining marbles. This is unpleasant. It’s like my ADD and “mom brain” had this mega bastard child, and then put it on speed. When they hit, my thoughts swirl. I can’t focus on anything, can’t make sense of anything, can’t put together a coherent thought. If one of these just hit me in my late forties or early fifties out of the blue, I would think I was stroking out. It’s disorienting, to say the least. They give me a mild feeling of panic, which makes my heart race and I sweat a little. Fortunately I am not having very many of these, and since I understand what’s happening they are not as terrifying as they otherwise would be. I’m not having very many hot flashes, although I do get regular night sweats. Zero symptoms of hormone withdrawal, for which I am SO grateful. My pain is getting a little more manageable each day, and my mobility is slowly returning. Overall, I feel better than I did pre-op. I’m able to spend a good chunk of the day with my children now. The incisions are healing nicely, no signs of infection. My appetite is slowly returning. I am having some mood swings, but they don’t feel much worse than just regular PMS. You’d have to ask my husband to get a more objective picture of those, though. So, over all, things are going well, although of course I’m ready to just be done and healed and get on with life already. Your continued prayers are greatly appreciated.