I’m just going to write about it. The plan was to keep it light. favorite lipsticks, new shoes, funny C$ stories... I can’t not be me. I’m a talker, I overshare. Penelope is disabled. There I said it. DISABLED. geez that looks weird. I think that the hardest thing is the guilt. How did this happen? Not enough tummy time, too much attention on C. My body is fucked, I shouldn’t have children. God tried to warn me with the first one, then the spherocytosis, now this. One day she almost crawls; the next day she just sits and cries. Today was a day like that. I want to just cry with her, but I’m a stone. I’ve crawled onto the ceiling and am watching myself sit and stare. Willing myself to embrace her and shudder away the feelings of failure and frustration. I’m not a terrible mother. I know that. The therapist says to avoid overhelping, but she doesn’t have to watch her baby reach for the ever elusive toy and erupt into tears when it just cant be gotten. She doesn’t have to explain to her two year old that “Penelope just isn’t ready to crawl like Simon,” she doesn’t have to be at the other end of the stare that says, “I’ve just given up.” I can’t seem to cope. I fancy myself an optimist. Staying encouraged through the difficulty, maintaining great attitude, being a great wife, mother, and friend. I’m failing at it all. I’m frustrated, sad, and disconnected. I can’t go on like this so I won’t. I’m gonna hand Penelope the toy, hold her when she cries, overhelp, and overshare. So, if you get stuck talking to me and I unload on you, smile politely, place a caring hand on my shoulder and listen.
People don't overshare enough. For the sake of being proper, people often say so little; I appreciate reading something worth reading, Dana. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI wish I was insightful enough, smart enough, intuitive enough to say something enlightening, encouraging, something that could put it all perspective, something that would make you say, "Yeah, I can do that!"- but I think most of us just struggle through our own days with our own problems and issues, doing our best to keep our heads up, above water, trying not drown - trying to provide the best flotation devices for those around us, so that they can hold on to us, too. We aren't strong because we want to be, we're strong because we have to be. Strength doesn't come easy, it comes from failing and trying again, repetitiously. The only thing you have to do to be a good mom is make sure that baby knows you love her and her sister more than anything else on Earth.
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