The last time I did a real, actual, day-in-the-life-of post, I was a bit…hmm….what’s the word? Suicidal? Homicidal? Maybe its best to just go with under the weather. I was a bit under the weather. Bean was sick, constipated, and teething. I was sleep deprived, stressed out, and dying of a cold. And Chris was…well, he may actually have been suicidal.
In a nutshell, things were grim.
But, like always, I refuse to believe that I was put through that horror of a situation without being taught something. Its taken one week and about three bottles of cough medication for me to find the lesson, but I think I’ve got it now.
Motherhood is about suffering.
That’s right. Its about suffering. Its about loving another being so incredibly much that even when you feel like there is no possible way for you to get out of bed and change a diaper, you find yourself hopping out of bed with some mythical energy and changing that diaper using every silly, sing-songy voice you can muster up, just so your baby Bean doesn’t have to be uncomfortable. And even when your son then thanks you by peeing in your hair – twice – you still smile and say happily, “Its okay, Beanie! Lots of protein for Mommy’s hair!”
Its about truly understanding what it means to put someone else first. And on days when you just want to hide under a rock and demand that someone feed you soup and tell you how pretty you are when you’re sick, you still blow bubbles at bath time and you still read books using weird, character voices and you still blubber tummies just so that your baby Bean feels better for a little bit.
Yeah, motherhood is about suffering. And its about silly songs and boring picture books and sometimes its even about bodily fluids. But its also about unconditional love. And in my limited experience, that trumps suffering every single time.
Being a Mom is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I feel unprepared and ill-equipped every single day. But its amazing that with one smile or laugh from Beanie, I don’t even remember how bad I feel. And when Beanie is too sick to smile or laugh, one raspy cough or wimpy little cry from him and I forget that I am sick myself. It doesn’t matter if I spend two solid hours rocking a screaming baby. It doesn’t matter how many times he pees on me or coughs in my face. It doesn’t matter if he sleeps in 20 minutes intervals or if he stays awake all night long. Whatever he needs, I’m there. I’m his girl. Cause I’m his Mom.
So, yes. The last few weeks have been pretty low. But that’s the thing about parenting. The peaks are just so darn high, they make even the lowest of lows seem like potholes in the road.