I don't understand how I can have my ducks in a row one day but the next everything falls apart. I don't understand how my kitchen can get so dirty on an hourly basis. How I can clean it cheerfully for weeks but one day I can't, so I cry and eat chocolate and feel wretched.
Today it rained so the children were inside and I desperately needed a break and didn't get one. I tried to get them to watch TV which backfired because television makes them cranky and irritable which also didn't help my (or their) moods. So we made muffins and after almost two weeks of eating soup I really wanted a muffin. I wanted my digestive system to allow me to eat a muffin. I wanted the muffin not to cause me pain and bloating but to nourish me. It sucks that my digestive system is broken.
I ate four muffins and I hate myself.
I know I am not the only mother that struggles.
I know I'm not alone. But I also know a lot of moms who seem to have it all together. I've never heard them yell. The craft pictures they post to Instagram while I'm trying to hold my sanity together are amazing. They make dinner every night. They have great marriages, big houses, and minivans. Like, is everything a lie or am I just a mistake?
Okay, so I know I make crafts with my kids too. But I also have raised my voice at them and been so touched out I have struggled with being present, cooking, cleaning...and feeling good/confident about myself. Don't have children if you are looking for a confidence booster. 0/10 stars.
So many things are wrong with me. For one, I have started responding to the comment "so when are you going to have more babies" or "time for number three?" with the words "I have too many dead babies". I hate saying this. But it just happens. I literally have no other words for inquiries into my procreation plans. And it is true. I would love to have more children, but they keep dying, so I guess it isn't part of my future. I'm okay with it, which basically means I'm not okay with it but don't see how to change it. We have quit trying and now when I think about pregnancy it is with horror and guilt, and with a heart full of trauma.
I want to change. I want to schedule my time wisely so I cook, clean and educate my small charges without anxiety, stress or panic attacks. I want to have the kind of life where I can remember to brush my teeth and hair without rushing. I want to look at my body in the mirror and not see all the babies that didn't make it. I would love for there to be some time for me and my husband to make deep and meaningful connections and I wish I didn't feel like I was sprinting from one task to another and always, always, behind.
I have no idea how to achieve any of the above anymore.
I hate that I live where I work. I wake up at work. I go to sleep at work. If my husband has to work late, I have to work late. I take my work with me when I go to the grocery store. I'm always at work.
I don't know how other women do this.
I've written a lot of positive posts but this isn't one of them. I'm exhausted. And there is no one to help. My husband has been working late daily and we can't afford a babysitter.
I love my children, and I'll never ever regret them. But I do regret that I have all these problems and scheduling issues that get in the way of me being a good parent. I regret all my health problems that take up so much of my time as I try to figure out how to get better. I dream a lot of "one day" when I won't have to worry about what I'll eat or if I'll have energy. I hope that day comes soon.