As I closed my eyes against the sound of my baby crying I promised her (and myself)
I woke up to my alarm and hit the snooze button. As I closed my eyes I thought “I don’t want to mom today”. I dislike that phrase, because being a mom is not a verb, it is a proper noun, it is a title. However, no other verb describes what I don’t want to do today. A list yes but not one, nice, concise, word.
It started at 4:45 this morning when the baby woke up screaming. A new habit she’s had for the past week or so. I heard her and laid in bed willing her to go back to sleep. My mental powers of persuasion failed. But still I didn’t move.
I knew she didn’t need a diaper change, she wasn’t hungry, she wasn’t in pain. She just needed what she’s needed most nights at this exact god forsaken time — me. But on this night there was no more me to give. The well was dry. The truth is, it’s been running low for quite some time.
The even harder truth is that this is my fault. For the last year and a half I have taking care of everyone to the best of my ability but I haven’t taken care of myself. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been out of the house for more than an hour without at least one child since the baby was born. She’s now 18 months old. It’s been at least 9 months since I’ve slept in. I have never asked my husband to get up in the night with the baby. I haven’t had a haircut in at least 18 months. I haven’t worn clothes that made me feel pretty in even longer. I haven’t been out with a friend or even sat in coffee shop reading a book since sometime in 2017. The only person to blame is myself.
The emptiness of my well shows at every turn. Our house is messy, sometimes bordering on dirty, though I try to stay on the hygienic side of things. My family eats more processed food than we should. The animals are lucky to get pet once a day. I am barely a wife to my husband and I can guarantee that, after most of my days, he’s definitely not touching me. There is just nothing left to give him.
Flashback to 4:45 this morning. I never got up, I couldn’t. I had nothing to offer the sweet baby who just needed my presence. Lucky for me the screaming turned to whining and she went back to sleep. But in my heart I know I failed her in that pre-dawn darkness. It was in those minutes, as I closed my eyes against the sound of my baby crying I promised her (and myself) that I would do better.
Doing better means taking care of myself. It means getting my haircut. It means sitting in a coffee shop, alone, for an hour every now and again. It means going to the rec center and swimming, feeling the water take all the weight for a while. It means admitting that a few weeks, or even months of good sleep doesn’t undo a year of sleep deprivation. In the most trite of terms it means putting on my oxygen mask first because if I don’t we’re all going down.
I woke my baby up this morning and she gave me a smile that told me she didn’t hold my weakness against me. I am the only one who does that. As I lifted her up and took in her smell I promised her that I will take care of us. Both of us.
