Jemma is now 3 and Max is almost 16 months – I’m loving these ages. L-O-V-E, love. Dare I say my favorite thus far. I’m tired at the end of the day, dog tired, but I fall asleep anticipating the next day. And that’s a wonderful feeling … to rest in the joy of what tomorrow will bring.
It took me somewhere between 13 and 15 months post-baby, but I’ve finally fallen into a rhythm with life.
Honestly, I roll my eyes and dare I say, judge a bit (so sorry, but true), when I hear of new mom’s returning to their workout schedules and cooking gourmet meals with an itty bitty around. Either I recover slowly from pregnancy and birth or I have less get-up-and-go in my spirit because life takes a big ol’ backseat when I have a baby. And I had two within 22 months which felt like back to back. Pregnancy, nursing, pregnancy, nursing … yep, back to back in my book.
The first few months, I sit around and nurse and nap every chance I get; staring at my baby and feeling all blissful about how precious life is.
Then I spend the next chunk of months wondering what I got myself into as I look around at the piles of laundry and corners of cobwebs. And the baby ain’t sleepin’ and the almost preschooler is hell bent on watching TV all. day. long.
Then things clear and I begin some kind of organizing plan and all or at least most, of the crying and screaming subsides. Both mine and the kids. Because when mama’s got a dose of sanity, everything seems to run a bit smoother.
Then the first birthday rolls around and … the tears return. Because, ohmygoodness, my baby isn’t a baby anymore! Waterworks. Thunderstorms. Niagara Falls. You get the picture.
But, I’m on the upswing once again WITH two kiddos in tow. Time has re-energized this mama and I’m meal planning and vacuuming the stairs (such a lame but necessary chore), getting dressed more often and taking the kids on outings. Outings besides the grocery store that is :) It’s a welcoming feeling to wake up to the crisp winter days and know that we’ve made it over the hump; those early days of juggling and feeling home bound. I adore the tiny weeks, truly I do, but they aren’t easy. No siree.
Sometimes I find myself feeling bad about the last year, the year that will forever be logged away as the year of survival with a newborn and two year old. The days where I alternated crying happy and sad tears whilst watching hours of cartoons to appease Jemma. But we loved during those days. We bonded. We became a little trio. I held onto the Lord as my hope and strength to pull through those moments when I felt outnumbered. I thanked Him for my little blessings and He has moved us into a new season. Can I get an amen?
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