I thought last week would be hard, because I was at home with my daughter pretty much on my own, for eight days. I had a little break half way through, and an assist from a friend for an hour here and there to go running, but it was just me and her for eight days.
It wasn't hard, turns out. I had cleared my schedule for the most part, so I could really focus on her and on whatever needed to happen. There were very few distractions, and everyone I went to hang out with was very understanding about having an occasionally vocal four-month-old around.
Turns out, what was hard was this week, when I abruptly came back to being around the entire world (instead of my selected super-understanding cohort of specially sympathetic friends), the "real" world, if you will.
In the real world, I am now only an accessory to the cuteness of my daughter, and have ceased to have very much personhood.
It's not her fault, by the way. She's a baby, and she's not unreasonable or fussy or difficult. She's smiley and adorable and really only makes noise when she's hungry, dirty, or bored. I want her to grow and turn into a person I'd like to be around, so I want to give her the things she needs, because then she'll be healthy and secure enough to be interested in the rest of the world.
It just turns out, sometimes it's really hard to give a child all the things they need and have enough time left to be much of a person yourself. It doesn't last, by the way - thought I am sure there are always decisions between what you need for yourself and what your child needs - but the really intense time is now, and we're moving through it fairly well.
Just not today. Today I feel like I had to press "pause" on life, and today I miss my life. Today I worry if I'll ever get to be in a play again, or sing worth a damn for any band or musical, or write more than a thank you note, or even read an entire book without having to stop a trillion times. Or even have a conversation without interruption. (Or fit into my old clothes.)
"Nope!" laugh other parents out there. "No, you won't, sugar! Get used to it!"
My husband came home from 10 days away and had to literally leave the house within the hour to start working on a different part of his work-life. He's great, he really works hard to make sure I'm able to do things outside the house, but the reality of his situation is that within 24 hours of achieving his graduate degree, he had other fires to work on putting out. (Also, before he left, he broke the faucet. Sigh.)
I get it, I do. I try really hard not to feel far down on his list of priorities because he constantly tries to put me and her first. It's just...
By the time it's ever my turn out of the house again, I will probably have no skills/interests/talents/viability left.
I don't really believe that. Do I? Maybe just today I do.
And let's get into the hardest part, the probable reason for this glum mood - it was really hard to get my daughter to sleep tonight. She cried. Hard. I had to put her down crying. She calmed down and went to sleep, but my last psychic glimpse of her, this tiny person I'm giving up myself for, was of a truly distraught tiny creature, unhappily wailing.
It hurts me. It's so hard to have her cry like that. I hate it. The fact that she went to sleep within five minutes means she was crying because she just wanted to fight the sleep, and I know that, and thus I know I'm still doing the right thing for her, but she's often such a happy thing, that listening to the crying is draining emotionally.
Because here's the thing. If you feel, however wrongly or in passing, that you're giving up your self for another human being, and yet the feedback you're getting implies that you're not doing a very good job...
...then it's a rough day.
Y'all, I love her so much. Here's hoping she wakes up with a smile.
In happier news, the faucet is already fixed.
