September 19, 2011
I’ve avoided writing for the past few weeks for a variety of reasons. Firstly, we were vacationing in Hawaii. Secondly, we moved to a larger house. Lastly, my mind has been clouded with stressful thoughts and fatigue – so it was really hard to sit down and write something meaningful when I knew everything I would release was resentment, stress and anxiety.
Even now, I finally sat down after a day of cleaning, unpacking and tending to the boys. My body is exhausted from moving all day, my feet feel numb from pressure and my eyes are swollen from my last breakdown earlier this afternoon.
I don’t normally breakdown, but when I feel lonely, unappreciated, stressed and overworked, I start to feel the need to curl up in a fetal position and cry.
Today, Christian witnessed me cry.
I hate it when he sees me crying because I know he instinctively feels something is wrong. At just 2 1/2 years, he wiped my tears, hugged me and ran downstairs to get wipes for my face.
I remember how it feels to watch a mother cry – I saw my mother cry many times when I was little girl. I could still feel the ache in my heart when I saw her eyes overflow with tears of loneliness and sadness. In witnessing those moments, I would clean and organize the house hoping that it would make her feel better. These early experiences molded me to become a perfectionist in my environment.
I didn’t want to become my mother.
But as I watched my two-year-old son hug me then pick up and organize the hangers he used to sword fight with Nicholas earlier, I knew he knew…
And I felt pain.
There are so many things that I have vied to become when I “grew up.” I wanted to travel the world. Have a big family. Become a business owner. And have a great marriage. While I no doubt possess many of these things – in the fine lines of the painting I portray, there are moments of stress, sadness and most of all…solitude.
When I finally lay down at night, I spend the last few moments of my day talking to my unborn son. Admittedly, I feel constant guilt for not eating enough, drinking enough or resting enough. Only when I feel him kick is when I realize there’s a growing being in my belly.
Despite not wanting to become my mother – I know that if I didn’t smile from joy, cry from pain or weep from stress…then I wouldn’t be a mom. A mother is everything, not just one perfect being.
While I often feel solitude, I also feel constantly connected to the boys that I bore from my belly these past couple years. Even though feelings of loneliness has plagued me throughout my life – I know more today that I’m not alone.
I’m not alone as I resonate with other mothers who feel my happy and sad experiences …
I’m not alone as I feel the tiny hand of my eldest son wiping the tears from my face…
I’m not alone as I feel the baby kick inside my growing womb….
Most of all, I’m not alone as I pray for peace and know that God is listening to my prayers…