Pages

Wednesday, July 17

It Doesn't Get Any Easier... At Least, It Hasn't Yet.

There was a thick, white fog settled low over everything this morning, which was appropriate. It matched my mood. If the weather always reflected my outlook, though -- and if I'm being honest about everything -- this summer would be stuffed to the brim with dark and dreary beginnings.

One of the most accurate expressions of sadness is that old cliche about a heavy heart. That's how mine feels in the morning, every morning. At least every Monday through Friday morning. Some mornings, it feels so heavy, it's just about in a puddle around my feet.

I want to be cheerful, I really do. But I just can't muster it yet. Because it feels a little bit like my baby is growing up without me.

He snoozes late in the mornings -- half the time, he isn't even awake when I leave. And he's starting to fall asleep earlier at night now too. I probably spend between two and three awake hours with him these days. God, that's nothing at all.

How do other mamas do this?

I hate it. I really do.

I know I'm lucky to have a good job, I'm incredibly lucky that my mom can and will watch him, and I'm lucky to have a baby who is a good little sleeper through the night. But I don't feel lucky right now. I feel like garbage.

I told myself, during that first awful drive back into work last month when I went through a thousand tissues, that it would get easier soon. Not better, but less awful. And I guess it has, in a way. I don't have the panicky, heartbreaking kind of sadness that I did that first morning. But that's because I'm getting accustomed to leaving him... and that realization makes me want to throw myself out the window.

So these days, I guess my heart feels not exactly broken when I'm gone, but bruised. It always heals at the end of the day -- it feels whole again. But that bruises blooms again every single weekday morning, tender and ugly anew. It's making me bitter and resentful. It's making me exhausted too.

So I guess I'm just waiting for this soul-fog to lift for good. For mornings to feel bright and full of possibility -- or at least not to feel so daunting and sad. It isn't depression. It's just an awful case of missing-my-baby, and I suppose time is the only somewhat-cure.

2 comments:

  1. I too have felt that Reagan has been growing up without me. I knew I would be a working mom and coming from a working mom home I remembered always wanting to go to the sitters house instead of staying home. Now I see that with Reagan when she reaches for our sitter instead of me it is hard, like you said it is a bruise.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh Carrie, I'm so so sorry to hear its not getting easier. While I haven't been in your shoes, I've spent the last two years on the other side of the fence, being the babysitter for little ones whose mamas go off to work during the day. And I can promise you that no sitter (not even a grandma-sitter) can ever take your place. I know it probably doesn't help, but I really think there is no perfect solution for us moms. There are downsides to being home full time, trust me. Sometimes I forget to appreciate all the time I have with Libby, while I'm sure you soak up every minute with your sweet boy. Us stay at home moms get a bigger quantity of time, but its not always quality time :) I think the best we can all hope to do is what's right for our family right now, and have faith that that's enough. Hoping things start looking up for you soon!

    ReplyDelete