Just keep going

To be honest, these last two weeks have not been fun for me at all.

 

I grant you, my kids are wonderful and the best thing that I have ever done, but that doesn't mean I enjoy them all the time. I love writing blog posts about how they did something cute or how fun it is to be with them, but honestly, that is not always the case. I always hesitate to write something not positive on my blog because, well, I don't know, I feel like it might make me not a good mother or something. But then I realize that the tough parts of being a mother are important to tell and to go through and acknowledge. Just because no one writes about it on a blog, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It does.

 

So, for me, it all stems down to lack of sleep. During residency I felt like most of my time at home was a fog. I was so sleepy all of the time and when it was time to sleep, it was hard to do because either I couldn't fall asleep or Henry. I remember dreading going to bed at night because I didn't know what was going to happen.  This started again. I believe Frances has been a little sick and has been teething, so she needs me.  During the day she has been especially clingy and at night she wakes up ALL THE TIME.  Now, for the most part, I can handle the daytime piece, but the night time, well that is another story.

 

I have found out that my body and mind do not function well with sleep deprivation. The first thing that happens is that I loose patience, which is especially hard for my son. I am easy to get upset and find myself getting more and more frustrated with mundane things. These last few weeks I couldn't plan anything, meals, grocery shopping, nothing.  I feel sorry for my nurse who had to deal with me in a sulky mood. Because I was so tired, I didn't exercise, which probably made everything worse.  My body was giving into the deprivation and stress and I couldn't fight it anymore.  All I could do was put on a fake smile (at least outside my house) and survive.

 

There are times in parenting where survival has to be good enough. It makes me wonder, is my son going to remember me being short tempered? Maybe he will just remember playing in the rain with me and making waffles.  One thing I know he will remember is that I was there. Fussy or not, I was there and we survived.