I can never find a moment to myself. It’s like I have a shadow following me around, except I don’t want it there. I can’t use the restroom without him crying; I can’t go to a workout class without him begging for me to hold him; I can’t leave the house, leaving him with his dad without him holding onto my leg crying.
The only solution nowadays is for me to hold him. Hold him tightly in my arms. Hold him securely so he knows I’m not going anywhere, that I am always here, and that I will not leave him.
But trust me, it gets exhausting. It’s exhausting not having five minutes to myself. It’s exhausting physically, holding him almost half the day. It’s exhausting mentally, not being able to think clearly.
I’ll admit that I’ve had the occasional thought, “why did I do this? Why did I decide to have another baby? Why did I ruin our perfectly good routine?”
But then, I have a rare glimpse of why I did this again, when he lays his perfectly round head on my shoulder, his tears dripping onto my shirt from his baby blue eyes, his nose running and leaving marks on my clothes. I can feel his cry dying down. It’s finally still. It’s just him and me. Hugging one another. Finding comfort in one another. That’s why I did this.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that it’s all about an attitude change. He finds peace in my arms. He finds comfort when I’m holding him. He finds joy when I’m carrying him around the house. He finds laughter when I’m feeding him.
I’m his safety blanket. I’m all he has.
So yes, Mama, you might be going crazy. This stage is HARD. But I try to remember it won’t be like this forever. Soon, he won’t want my arms to hold him; he won’t need my shoulder to cry on; he won’t want my lap to sit on.
So for now, I’ll try to embrace it with an attitude change, and a more loving and patient heart, while simultaneously counting down the hours until Daddy gets home from work.
You’ve got this.
