Posted February 23, 2010on:
and the most tangible thing right now is an urge to weep. What the hell is going on? I want to sleep, my eyes want to sleep, but I just can’t. Am I trying to simulate a May-experience? Is this how it feels to be her? But she went down an hour ago, snoozing all drugged up with a dose of infant tylenol. I’m just blind guessing. So far this night seems the most promising of the last 7 nights. She has been rubbing her nose a lot, so maybe it’s the top teeth that are bothering her? Whatever. She’s sleeping. Two nights ago it was bad, like, both Son and I saw dark rings developing around her eyes, and I went into my “maybe she’s anemic?” mode. Son said noooo, she’s fine. Anyways. She’s sleeping now. That leaves me with this urge to weep.
I have been nursing some sort of smoldering rage since, oh, I don’t know. I don’t know why and how. It’s just here, like, hi, it’s me, this anger out of nowhere that causes a mother to snap at her child for things that are so mundane for a day in the life of. I’m thinking maybe I need to exercise. Oh, I know, maybe it’s the uncertainty of the future, of Son’s fellowship applications and wanting so bad to be supportive, yet putting in so little effort this time around. I’m just so out of it. I care, I care lots, but I just feel like I got so much wind knocked out of me these days. Motherhood totally kicks my ass. I’m feeling more and more blind as I stumble along. With other things in life, I always maintain that if others can do it, I can too. But, oh I don’t know, with the last 10 months, I have not told myself that. I was just merely chanting “gotta get through this, gotta get through this.” I do love it. I love it and I fear it. Like, sometimes, I remember how May used to nap all curled up like a kitten against my chest, and I miss it, and I feel glad that I could experience it. Other times, days and nights meld together into one sticky wad of “go, go, go, it’ll pass somehow.” And the feeling of loneliness. That, might be part of this urge to weep. It’s not, logically and realistically, a physical state. Son’s always there, giving giving giving (need to stick this disclaimer in right away lest I make it sound like he sucks). He helps a lot. He has been everything I had hoped he would be when, oh geez, 10 years ago, I thought of him as the father to my unborn children.
Oh see, she’s up now.
but i’ve championed the technique of one finger typing in the dark while side nursing, so we can go on. The loneliness. It’s the feeling of inadequacy, of not knowing, of not being able to fall back onto the wisdom of books or the might of Google. I’ve tried both. This one raised arm at all times typing technique can only sustain about 3 lines of texts at most. ugh