A number of years ago, had someone asked me if I were happy, and I mean genuinely happy at least once every single day, I would not have been able to say yes. I have struggled with maintaining emotional stability in the past having experienced both some very high highs and some very low lows. I have sought help, learned the importance of talking about my feelings, made improvements, and repeated the cycle a handful of times. When I first learned that I was pregnant with Clara, I felt confident that I would be dealing with postpartum depression once she arrived. (I’m fortunate to be able to say that I did not experience PPD to a point that impacted our family, and I will always be thankful for that. That being said, it was a very real fear of mine for several months during both of my pregnancies.) I spoke honestly and candidly about my concerns about continuing my medication throughout pregnancy, and ultimately made the decision to stay on it because my bottom line is and always will be this: kids need happy parents. Kids need parents who can care for themselves so they care for their children. Kids need parents who are centered with themselves so they can center their children. And kids need parents who (at least on some level) love themselves so they can love their children. There is no such thing as a perfect parent, but there are such things as parents who are perfect for their children and above all else, that is exactly who Matthew and I work hard to be for Clara and Eloise.
Parenting is no joke. It’s not for the weak and it’s certainly not for the faint of heart. This is evidently clear to us most days, some more than others. Fourth of July was one of those days that was simply more than others. Our friends invited us to a party at their home which we hadn’t yet seen since they bought it in December. We looked forward to spending time with them and our other friends, some of whom are parents already, some of whom are expecting, some of whom are hopeful to be parents one day and some of whom have no intent of ever being parents. With the potential of walking to the beach combined with a mom who is nursing, you can just begin to imagine All. The. Crap. that we lugged with us into our poor friends’ home. And you know what we saw upon entering? All. The. Crap. that the other parents lugged with them. Beach bags. Breast pump bag and accessories. Insulated bottle bags. Toddler toys and even a table! Diaper bags. So many diaper bags. (Really only three, but man it seemed like a lot.) All the sunscreen. The list goes on, but I think you get the point. We were in the unique position of having the eldest and the youngest child of the mix, so you can just imagine the chaos of having six children ranging between two months and two years old. Those without kids sipped beer and wine on the porch; I couldn’t tell you what they talked about but it looked like they were having fun! The couples who are expecting watched with bewildered eyes as those of us with children never stopped. We always had a child in our hands. We were always trying to feed someone, entertain someone, tell someone to stop doing whatever it was that they were doing, pull someone off of someone else, nurture someone, scold someone, or chase someone. Though it was lovely to see our dear friends, I feel confident in saying that the Fourth of July this year was not relaxing. It was quite literally the opposite of relaxing in all the ways something can be the opposite of relaxing.
Once we returned home, we had two extremely hot and overtired girls on our hands. Clara had gotten her first splinter and taking it out kicked off a meltdown of epic proportions. Tag teaming was impossible given that Eloise was also screaming and the only thing that would calm her was nursing. Somehow, some way, we managed to get them both down to sleep early enough in the evening so that we could take some much-needed time to reset ourselves. We talked about so many things; things with which we were struggling, things that worried us, things we were guilty of, and things that angered us. We talked about the girls and how we hope we’re not messing them up too much. We talked about the future, what we hope for, and what we fear. We talked about the present, what drives us crazy and what we need to do to be successful. We genuinely heard each other, cried with each other, and eventually, laughed with each other. One thing that I love about my husband is the fact that he has helped me become a better communicator. When the going gets tough, our biggest strength as a couple is to talk it out. It’s a level of self care for our marriage that we cannot let go unchecked, and we rarely do. The result of our talks are often, if not always, positive and the result of this particular one was a wonderful realization: I am happy, and I mean genuinely happy, every single day. I may not feel genuinely happy every moment of every day, but I am happy with my marriage, with my children, with my job, and with my life every single day. In fact, I am happier now than I have ever been in my life. Yes, there are things that stress, anger, annoy, or sadden me (you read about the phone, yes? And dare I remind you of the aforementioned epic tantrum? The list goes on: getting Eloise to latch, all the levels of mom-guilt, the profoundly cluttered state of my house, the hypothetical results of Clara’s preschool evaluations that won’t even happen for several months… get the picture? ) but when I reflect on each day before I fall asleep, I smile. I picture Clara’s face, hands and elbows covered in Nutella. I see Ellie’s lips curl into a smile as she sleeps soundly in her bassinet next to me. I hear my husband’s annoying snores, and while I envy his ability to fall asleep in under a minute, I take comfort in knowing he would do anything to ensure our happiness. I thank God for those three precious lives. I am and will forever be passionately thankful that they are my family and I get to be one of us.
