I think the hardest realization in the first few days after Kellan was that my “job” didn’t end at 5:00. I didn’t get to drive home, throw off my work clothes and just chill.
My job continued. All night, through to the next day and the next and the next…
There was no break.
It was daunting. Scary. Overwhelming. Almost claustrophobic.
There is no end to the job.
Why didn’t someone prepare me for this?
It took a good long while for me to accept that fact, my new reality, without my throat closing up and my head spinning, my mental self trying not to go into a complete tailspin.
You think you understand what your impending loss of freedom means when you’re preggo…but you don’t. Sorry. You have no idea until you’re in the poo, spit up, no shower, everybody’s crying trenches.
Before I got pregnant, Tim and I talked about being childless. Just him and me forever and ever, amen, the end.
We went back and forth. We waffled. We loved the *idea* of having children but weren’t exactly ready to full on commit.
Kids meant forever changing the lifestyle we had, the things we liked to do, the lazy weekends we were so fond of having, especially after a 20 mile long run.
So we put stipulations on *when.*
After we finally move from Georgia. After I eliminate sugar and caffeine and, and, and…After we do X and Y and PQRSTUV.
We both knew we would have to just bite the bullet and DO IT (literally…figuratively…) or else it would never happen. We would always be able to find a reason to wait.
(edited to add) The conversation always came around to how we would feel if we did remain childless. Would we feel like we missed something? Like there was a huge, gaping hole in our life…in our marriage? Would we feel “complete?”
The answer was always a resounding no. We wouldn’t feel complete. We would feel like we missed out…like something was missing from our relationship (end edit). Kids were in our future….just…when?
So, anyhow, after a (fateful) dinner on a Friday night where I said I was “ready” (but not really…not yet…after) we made a valiant attempt one weekend last May and here we are, plus one. Obviously, God decided that our attempt at making an effort towards starting a family was good enough and BAM!
I now have a 24 hour job.
I’m still thrown sometimes at the magnitude of it all. I think back to the days where I could literally do NOTHING and no one suffered.
I see why “me” time becomes such a luxury once you’re a mom. Especially when you have a child who needs you – to be close to you, on you, next to you, all day and night. During naps and play time and everything in between.
Do I mind?
Of course not.
Do I miss vegging out?
Is all of the effort and time and lack of everything I’m putting in worth it?
Am I grateful that we were able to have a baby so quickly? Literally after TWO attempts?
Yes, a million times over.
I found out an old friend from back home and her husband have been trying for SIX YEARS.
That breaks my heart.
As badly as they want children…as many things as they’ve tried…nada. And here I am lamenting over no “me” time.
That reality alone – the ease with which we got pregnant versus those who want a child more than anything and the positive result on a pregnancy test just. will. not. happen. – really puts my “job” into perspective. I’m not put out. I’m blessed beyond measure to have the opportunity to raise a child and forego “me” time.
That is what I think about when the walls begin to close in around me and the thought of another sleepless night has me at my wits end.
I am blessed.