Turnaround

Was feeling depressed, fearful, intimidated, regretful. I am tired, short-tempered, no fun. How will having a newborn around make that any better? I'll be MORE tired, short-tempered, no fun. And I don't even want to think about labor. Except that I do, suddenly, all the time. How it starts in the morning and lasts all day, all night, then all the next day. Theoretically this third time could be faster, but oh God can I do that again? Can I do these next weeks? Do I even want to do this at ALL? 

I was wrapped up in how hard it will be to lose the baby weight, how much it hurts when they stick the IV in the back of your hand, how in the WORLD I am going to manage two different preschool schedules with a morning napper. Then a little voice called from the kids' bedroom: "I want Mommy to sweep with me."

And there's my Mollymoo, who ruined a nice long potty accident-free streak today, who's been exceptionally whiny and manipulative and downright liar liar pants on fire when it comes to her brother. And the only reason I lay down with her is because I would like to be laying down anywhere right now, so I do, and she's feeling chatty, not at all sleepy. 

Finally I say, "Molly, let's say our prayers."

She says, "We already said our prayers."

I say, "But we can say some more."

She looks at me. I look at her. It's dark. Jack is softly snoring, Molly's eyes are bright and inches away from mine. "What should we thank God for today?" 

She has no idea, because we only pray before dinner and before bed, this extra prayer is definitely extra. So I say, "Let's thank God for pink bikes." 

Now she has the idea. 

"Let's thank God for Grandma and Grandpa."

Yes. 

"Thank God for Baby Annah and Baby Billy." Our sponsored children. Yes. 

"Thank God for the closet." Sure. 

We thank God for every relative and every friend and every baby we know, several times over. We thank God for pink bikes and Jackson's blue bike. We thank God for preschool and crayons and the ceiling and the sink and Blue's Clues and Mommy's bed and the treats we get for going potty. 

I can't remember half of what she came up with, or what I suggested. All I know is I finally got her settled, content to be alone, and I left her room and went into mine and felt like thanking God for my own grown up things. Like my daughter and my son and our new house and my husband watching Louis C.K. in the living room and the freedom to go to bed at 9 and this hard little bottom shoved into my rib cage, with the little feet that jut out and wake me up at night. Also epidurals. 

I can do this. 

Comments

[Salome Ellen]

Amen!

[Sarah in Ottawa]

Aww!

You are awesome and can totally do it. You survived GRAD SCHOOL, which went on for two years. You can do labour. You rock! /Cheerleading.

[Life of a Doctor's Wife]

This makes me all teary for some reason. Gratitude feels so GOOD - why don't I do it more often?

(Also: You've totally got this. You are going to rock the house as mom of three.)