This isn’t the way I intended life with kids. I didn’t think I would be traveling day six of my infant’s life. I didn’t think I would be in and out of the hospital while questioning the decision to have another baby. I didn’t think I would be running from doctor office to therapy visit to picking up a toddler from preschool all in 3 hours. It’s just not what I thought it would be.
Life used to consist of entertaining toddlers. It was park visits, gymnastics play, beach combing, and play dates. And some, if not most of life, is still made up of these special moments with toddlers. It is now intermingled with a strict feeding schedule, office visits, specialist appointments in different states, and scheduling in daily physical and occupation therapy for their special needs sibling.
Please give me grace. Please excuse the unanswered text messages, phone calls, and emails. Please excuse the tardiness and slight inattentiveness. I’m working with multiple calendars of a child’s school, family events, church activities, doctor appointments, therapy visits, work schedules, and a small amount of “me” time. My plate is overflowing.
My head space is usually filled with the “what next”. It’s constantly looking at the clock. It’s thinking of every small move my baby makes, looking for cues of discomfort, happiness, any emotion she can barely muster the strength to express. My mind is anxious more often than not. Am I doing enough? Could I be using the awake hours more effectively to help her more? Did I pay that bill? Did I pack him a lunch? Did I brush my teeth?
I would love to have time for play dates, baby showers, church small groups, and coffee with new friends. It’s just not my season of life. Instead, I entertain toddlers in doctor offices. My coffee cup is still in the microwave, and chatting with friends is more like chatting with my new bestie, the doctor’s office manager.
When you do see me, please take the initiative. I’m tired. My mind is usually racing from task to task. I want to catch up, but sometimes I’m lacking the energy. Please say hello. Even if it’s only for 30 seconds of conversation. It reminds me that I’m still me, that I still have friends even when I don’t visit much. A small gesture goes a long way in my world of little people.
Thank you to those wading the swift waters with me. Thank you to the Facebook group of friends I’ve never met in person who lock arms with me. And to the mothers who email from around the country to give hope. You truly are inspirational. Together it’s easier to walk against the current. Together it’s easier to grieve, support one another, and celebrate small victory.
Although the day to day is not what I imagined, I couldn’t have asked for more. My house is full. It’s full of love, hope, and yes craziness. Everything has its season. It’s just a stepping stone to another change around the corner. So friends, I’m still here. I’m just in this space. Be patient with me.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under the heavens.” Ecclesiastes 3:1