My mind is spinning with everything that has to be done. The baby is 3 weeks old… she came five weeks early and although I wasn’t ready for her arrival there’s no use dwelling on that. Now I just try to figure out how to get everything accomplished.
With four children, who I’m trying to care for on my own, the ultra organized super-mom who’s able to balance tall tasks in a single bound is nowhere to be seen. I struggle just to get some sleep; to take time to pee; to get up extra early to take the two middle children to daycare while praying all the way home that the oldest hasn’t missed the bus. I struggle to get the laundry done (okay, we all struggle with that).
Last night, when it comes to sleep, was a disaster, I think I clocked maybe two hours total – maybe three. Even without the sleep I see the need to clean the children’s room, restart the dryer for the clothes that didn’t dry, check my email, balance my checkbook, pick up something from my daughter’s school, and on and on and on… it’s never ending.
Whatever happened to the postpartum recovery time? Before the baby arrived I had visions of breastfeeding, eating and sleeping while safely snuggled on the couch – with baby – for a minimum of six weeks. Someone should have told me life was going to throw an ugly curveball that would result in me suddenly doing everything alone (that’s a whole ‘nother story).
Now as I fight the demons that threaten to take over my brain, the sadness that lurks, the depression that fogs my thoughts and the thoughts that flee before I get a chance to get a good look at them; I hope there’s some light at the end of the birth recovery. I hope there’s some brain activity, organization, lost pounds, happy days and general satisfaction about my life.
Until then if you don’t find me here you can find me on my couch starring blindly at the television. I’ll be holding onto the cushions dreading that in five minutes I’ll have to get up and fix myself something to eat, write some checks for some bills, clean out a potty chair, change a diaper or some other mommy designated task that if left undone will pile up enough to summon the local office of child protective services.
Aw, the joys of being a new mommy.