It looks like I just may survive my first year of motherhood.
Unless BG decides to pull some crazy tricks in the next couple of weeks, which she totally could do.
I'm not getting into the whole "she's almost one" post tonight or the post on how my eyes are swollen because I've been bawling looking at her baby photos all day. Nope. Not today.
What hits me today as I look back over this past year is how completely life changing, emotional, and just plain hard it has been.
I heard this year was going to fly by. Fly by? Doesn't even begin to describe it. I swear I was just sitting on the couch bawling my eyes out at the fact that my child wouldn't quit crying.
Now? She almost rarely cries. Just laughs, squeals, and whines. Good times.
People told me it would go fast, but this is what they didn't tell me that I quickly learned for myself.
No one told me that I would literally cry for
True story. That all happened.
I wasn't warned that b*reastfeeding does not work for everyone. I just assumed that's what we would do. No one told me that if it didn't work, that it would send me back into an emotional tailspin as I dealt with my guilt on not being able to take care of my child. No one told me we'd spend hours switching from side to side squeezing every last drop out as we both sobbed because it just. was. not. working.
No one told me that there would be times in this year that I would loathe my husband. Don't get me wrong, I adore him, don't worry about us, but there have been times where I wanted to slaughter him. When he went back to work and got to start sleeping again leaving me up all night to deal with the
Shank, shank, shank.
Of course on the flip side, I wasn't prepared for how much more I would love him and in so many different ways.
I heard that when you see your spouse with your child, it's a whole different kind of love, but y'all, it is so, so much more.
I adore him. I adore the father he's become. It makes my world sprout little rays of sunshine when I see her light up and reach for her Daddy when he comes home. It's awesome. I love 5 o' clock (or 6:15 or whenever he graces us with his presence) because it makes her day. He was made to be this girl's Daddy. And I love him so much more for that.
No one told me that it would take, oh, nothing to make my patience snap. The dogs barking tends to make me want to cut their throat out just to keep it from waking her up. A Diet Coke can left out when I JUST got the living room cleaned up makes snakes climb out of my head. I'm going to blame this on how daggum tired I stay.
No one told me about the "mom guilt". It started when I couldn't b*reastfeed. It's only escalated since then. I feel guilty when I leave her. I feel guilty when she pulls something down on top of her. I feel guilty when she falls. Pretty much I have to deal with feeling guilty about something at least once a week. It's gotten better now. I'm finally getting that junk under control but it took a very, very long time.
Then there's the worry. I worry about her constantly. Is she getting enough Tummy time? Too much? Am I playing with her enough? Too much? What's she doing while I'm at work? Is she okay in the church nursery? Is she too hot? too cold? Is she sick? Is she sleeping? Is she breathing? ::blah, blah, blah:: I could go for days.
Gone are the days of sleeping well because I'm constantly tuned to her. I listen for cries, for toys being thrown out of the crib, for breaths; it's ridiculous.
It's crazy folks. In just under a year, my entire world has been flipped turned upside down (sing that...) and I absolutely love it. I've had my highest highs and my absolute lowest lows since bringing BG home. I've heard there's nothing like a mother's love, and it's true times about a trillion. I never, ever thought I could love someone like this. It's crazy.
So yeah, this year has been hard. It's been more than I could ever imagine and while I honestly had zero clue what I was in for, I've absolutely loved every minute of it.
Okay, that's not true. I could have dealt with a little less screaming but other than that, every single minute.