It was a year ago today that I went into preterm labor. My only responsibility in the whole world, from that day until the day the girls were born, two months later, was to sit on my rump and gestate. Sound easy? It wasn't. Up until the middle of November I had been doing boot camp workouts. Me and my belly did sprints, jumping jacks, burpees, squats--you name it. I was active, I enjoyed being active. Then, suddenly, I wasn't. Life is difficult.
My life has changed so monumentally since that day a year ago.
Sunday, I reached the end of my rope, wits--you name it, I was at the end of it. I needed a break. For whatever reason, that day, the constantness of motherhood engulfed me, and I couldn't seem to figure out how to surface to catch my breath. The ever-present need the girls have for me when they are awake, and the infinite list of chores that need to be accomplished when the girls are not awake. I was tired, physically, spiritually, emotionally--just drained. I was completely cognizant of the selfish, joyless hole I was sitting in, but I couldn't seem to figure out how to climb out of it. Life is difficult.
A Starbucks coffee and an hour trip to the grocery store by myself later, I was in a much happier place.
Today, I look around our home and see spider webs glistening in the sun shining through our dingy windows. I see a collection of dust on most all of our furniture. The battle to keep dog hair off the floor is a daunting, win-less war. There is laundry to be done, dishes to be washed, babyfood to be made, and it took a blow out diaper this morning to remind me that we are all out of wipes--guess I need to get to the store today too. All those feelings from Sunday suddenly threaten to rear their ugly head again, or maybe they never really left--simmering below the surface, waiting for an overwhelming moment to pounce. Life is difficult.
I know I am not the only mama to ever feel this way. And, really, truly, most of the time I'm okay with the craziness of my life. I laugh at it, I celebrate it. Today, my daughter was rolling all over the place smearing poop all over herself and the changing table as I scrambled around looking for the wipes that we did not have. Soon, her sister began scooting over to play in her sister's poop, because it just looked like so much fun. I laughed, the complete insanity of it all was hilarious to me. And it makes me ever so grateful for the handiness of wipes when I remember to buy them, and refill the dispenser.
Dr. Peck goes on to write, Once we truly know that life is difficult--once we truly understand and accept it--then life is no longer difficult. Because, once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.
That resonated with me today. My life is what it is, and most days, I don't realize the difficultness of it. That very pregnant girl sitting on the couch a year ago would have been completely overwhelmed jumping into this life, and she might have thought it impossible to manage. But, here I am, dancing through each day doing the best I can, seeking to see the levity of most situations (at least those that involve poop), and praying that God will give me the patience, grace, energy and strength to care for the girls, myself, my husband and my home. Some days are better than others, because, let's face it, Life is difficult.