When “Doing it All” Takes Its Toll
As I’ve documented before, I’m a bit of an overachiever. I’m learning that that isn’t always feasible with a small child. You can’t do it all 24/7 and expect to be happy. Today I had THE meltdown.
The past few days R has been a bit icky. She hasn’t been sleeping well, so my husband and I aren’t sleeping well, meal time has been torture, she’s possibly teething, and to top it all off, my husband and I are going through some personal matters that just add to the stress (don’t worry-not marriage related). I firmly believe that my own stress has trickled down to my little human.
I’m high anxiety, high stress, and go go go (which is why I did so well in NYC for so long!). That doesn’t bode well for taking care of a baby — especially because they require a lot of observation and patience.
So, this morning I’m up early after a restless night, again, trying to feed R while pumping and doing the dishes (BELIEVE IT). My pump falls off the chair and I yelped in pain. When my husband came out, I let all my stress off on him (sorry babe). I proceeded to cry for the next hour in our room while my husband took over R’s care. Once she was napping, he sat down with me to go over how I got to this point.
I was done. I was overwhelmed and exhausted and R wouldn’t stop fussing or spitting her food at me and I just couldn’t do it all anymore. I had officially burned myself out.
“Those dishes could have waited.” he said, concern filling his eyes.
“No. I had to get them done. I couldn’t even wash R’s cereal off my hands!!” I protested.
“They could have waited. You could have left them until tomorrow, even. Doing all of this, having a clean house, pumping for over an hour a day, cloth diapers, all of this pressure, it’s not making R’s life better, it’s making it worse. You, like this, is not good for her.”
It hit me like a ton of bricks. He was right. Everything I was doing to make sure our home was perfect (and I do mean perfect), all the pressure I was putting on myself to continue to pump, was not making R’s life better. In fact, R and I were both pretty miserable at this point. Enough. I need to ENJOY the remaining time I have before I start working again. I need to smother R with kisses and get on the floor and play helicopter with her — dishes BE DAMNED.
When R woke from her morning nap I held her close and whispered in her ear, “I’m really sorry I’ve been so short with you. I promise to be more calm. I love you.” And wouldn’t you know it? Each mealtime for the remainder of the day has been flawless. She hungrily gobbled down a huge helping of spinach, enjoyed some zucchini, and happily nibbled on some puffs. We laughed and played, and even though she ended the day cranky, thanks to skipping her afternoon nap, we still had a fabulous time today.
I just finished the dishes and am now sitting down enjoying dinner and watching some well earned TV. I plan to go to bed early and start tomorrow off the way I ended today — calm and thankful for my life.
P.S. BYE PUMPING. I’m done. Eight and a half months is pretty damn good.
