It’s no secret to you all that the transition from 1 to 2 has been hard for me. From learning how to breastfeed with a toddler demanding your attention, to recognizing that it’s ok to admit I’ve felt sad and overwhelmed (and it’s ok to seek help for those feelings), to the sheer number of physical ailments I can’t seem to find my way out of. True, my post-partum experience has not been a walk in the park.
Just at the moment I thought I was getting my second wind and coming out of this fog, I got slammed with this mother of a cough and cold that has totally wiped me out. I was reminded today that these things happen when you are rundown, and man, am I ever. As renewing as our roadtrip was a week ago, I have experienced a setback that truly rattled me. My loving husband gently reminded me last night that “[I] will feel better…in a week [I’ll] be back to [my] old self”…and he’s right, but today it feels like just another hurdle to overcome.
I have something kind of dorky to admit. I’m intimidated by my fancy double jogging stroller. True, I’ve had to take it easy (after I popped a stitch stupidly lifting it at 2 weeks post-partum), but now that I’m healed (I think) I’m just terrified to break the bad boy out. What if I look silly dragging it out on the street? What if Charlie refuses to sit in it? Will it feel like “too much” stroller?
I said all of this to Vann and I think he thought I was crazy. For goodness sakes, I moved to Chicago 10 years ago and knew only one person and had $1,000 to my name and NO JOB. You’d think I can handle THIS, right??
But I think that the stroller is just a metaphor for the bigger picture. I feel nervous and overwhelmed to “get out there” with the girls. A weekly trip to Mom’s Group…that’s one thing…but being out and about with a toddler and a newborn just seem insurmountable to me.
I also realize that I’ve really put myself out there on my blog and not a lot has been for my (or Vann’s) eyes only. When I sit here and type out my stream of consciousness I believe that those of you reading it actually care what I have to say. Hopefully you do, and hopefully, some of you have felt these same things and appreciate the “voice” I put to them. The truth is that I can’t do this alone. Friends have said this to me over and over again, but I think it’s finally hitting home. God sees me. He’s “got my number”, as a wise sister told me a couple weeks ago.
I think that I often expect that God doesn’t involve Himself in the mundane parts of being a mom. But actually, He does. I mean, how much easier would it be to get through the day if I imagined Him playing on the floor with Charlie and I in her room as the baby sleeps in the swing. If I imagined Him walking alongside me as I struggle to get the infant seat and Charlie to the car. If I imagined Him nuking chicken nuggets with me. Doesn’t that paint a picture of God that’s much more relatable? Because, really and truly, He is there, all the time.
Being sick has not allowed me the privilege (and that’s what it is) of loving and kissing on my sweet husband and precious girls. I still haven’t been able to shower Charlie with kisses since she’s been home and I hate that. I plan on making up for lost time ASAP.
I prayed today that God would give me enough time to have a quiet time and some reflection and prayer. And, lookie there…I hear Charlie yelling “Mommy! What you doing, Mommy???” A precious 30 minutes…You think that God appreciates a good blog??
Sunday afternoon we had our good friends the Speelman’s over for brunch. Vann made scrambled eggs with goat cheese and these AMAZING bacon and chocolate chip pancakes. Yep, I bought the mix at Whole Foods and had to try it out…totally worth it!! 
