My life is a beautiful mess right now.
Caring for two little ones under the age of three (both in diapers)
is demanding work, to say the least. Some days I feel as if I barely
have time to catch my breath, let alone shower, eat, or go to the
bathroom. Most nights I hit my pillow with a tiredness so intense
that I worry I might fall into a slumber so deep that even my
newborn's cries might not wake me (hasn't happened yet!).
My muscles ache at the end of each day like they never have before. Sometimes, when it's barely 9:00 a.m. and I'm on my sixth diaper change of the day (and no, this is not an exaggeration), I start to ponder if I can actually make it through yet another diaper change without having an emotional breakdown. Will I survive this? Can I handle another nap time battle? Will I make it through the next two hours of carrying my newborn in her carrier so that she can sleep when I all I want to do is lay down, or at least sit? How I will I manage to give my two-year-old the 15 minutes of alone time with mommy that she so desperately needs and craves each day? Will I ever get a moment to myself ever again?
Then, I take a deep breath and remind myself to focus on the present moment, not what came right before or what's to come right after. I try to focus on just this one simple moment; my baby needs me and my job is to care for her, to love her, and to appreciate her, fiercely and unconditionally. Children live for the present moment and I need to meet them there, whatever the moment may require, whatever their needs may be. I need to forget for a bit all of the worries swimming around in my head, my never-ending to-do list, or the constant work that needs to be done around the house, and to just be present with them.
My muscles ache at the end of each day like they never have before. Sometimes, when it's barely 9:00 a.m. and I'm on my sixth diaper change of the day (and no, this is not an exaggeration), I start to ponder if I can actually make it through yet another diaper change without having an emotional breakdown. Will I survive this? Can I handle another nap time battle? Will I make it through the next two hours of carrying my newborn in her carrier so that she can sleep when I all I want to do is lay down, or at least sit? How I will I manage to give my two-year-old the 15 minutes of alone time with mommy that she so desperately needs and craves each day? Will I ever get a moment to myself ever again?
Then, I take a deep breath and remind myself to focus on the present moment, not what came right before or what's to come right after. I try to focus on just this one simple moment; my baby needs me and my job is to care for her, to love her, and to appreciate her, fiercely and unconditionally. Children live for the present moment and I need to meet them there, whatever the moment may require, whatever their needs may be. I need to forget for a bit all of the worries swimming around in my head, my never-ending to-do list, or the constant work that needs to be done around the house, and to just be present with them.
Life with small children is exhausting
and crazy and magical all at once. I live for those precious fleeting
moments when I am reminded of why I'm doing all of this. For
instance, the way my almost three-month-old smiles at me, her eyes
lighting up with happiness, her legs and arms kicking with
uncontrollable excitement, the moment I start talking to her, as if
I'm truly the best thing that's ever happened to her. The way she
quiets immediately, even if for just a brief second or
two, when I enter a room and she hears my voice—music to her ears.
The way her little fists grasp tightly onto my shirt or my shoulder
when I carry her, as if saying “Momma, please don't let go of me. I
need you to hold me and keep me safe from the world.” The
way she drifts off to sleep as she suckles at my breast, cozy and
warm and protected, nourished by the body that made her and grew her
and birthed her into the world. The way her heart rate and breathing
slow down the moment I pick her up, as she breathes a
sigh of relief and her little body relaxes into mine, reminding me of
the time when we were one. The way she nuzzles into my chest when tired and the adorable sleep smiles. The way my two-year old hugs me with wild
abandon, almost knocking me off my feet at times with her force. The
way she shouts “I love you mommy!” in the middle of a
conversation about trains or preschool or some other random,
seemingly unrelated, topic. The way she confides in me about her
fears, relying on me to provide explanations for the ways of the
world, however confusing or strange or scary they are. The way I feel
butterflies in my stomach when I watch either of my daughters
sleeping, ever so peacefully and deeply, and the pride I feel at
being able to provide a secure and loving home for them where they
can rest their growing bodies safely. The way I start to miss them
when they've both been asleep for a while, as if my body craves their
company, their warmth, and their energy.
These are just a few of the many many
moments each day that make all of this hard work worth it. They are
the moments that light up my day and nourish my soul, reminding me to
persevere, even on days when motherhood gets the best of me, on days
when it all feels really hard and overwhelming and exhausting. Days
when I find myself feeling depleted and irritable. Days when I think,
“How could I possibly give any more of myself to these two
children?” These magical moments, sprinkled throughout, are
endless, yet so easily overlooked. I just need to slow down enough to notice them. I need to remember to take a deep breath and cherish each fleeting tender moment with my children, a moment here now and gone forever.
