Today I cried. In unison with my newly born son and toddling daughter. I sat right there on the corner of the couch and I cried, weeped even- inconsolable, exhausted, unusually heavy. In between the weeps was a chant coming from my daughter's perfect mouth, the one that was made by my own body and has grown so much over the last 22 months, along with her blossoming vocabulary (I'm so proud of her vocabulary.)... "Mama, Mama, Mama!" I've always wanted that name and now it's mine. All mine.
These calls to attention made me weep harder, made her weep harder, made him weep harder. My mind is busy with thoughts of how I thought I might be as a mother of two and how I am consistently and repetitively falling short of my own expectations. I'm so tired. My boobs hurt, I smell of cheesy milk, my uterus is in a ball, I threw out my neck and can't turn my head, my house is a mess... and... I know... I'm so damn lucky (seriously, I know).
My mind is singing loudly now. "This should be the best time of your life." "Isn't this the best?!" "Why are you so negative?" "Just be happy!!" ....I'm busy collecting the comments I've received from the crowd and storing them in my internal bank. They don't serve me well, but they are resounding. I hear them over and over and remember (over and over) that I am less of a mother than I'd hoped to be. I don't even know where a pair of damn socks are for my daughter so we can go outside.
There are so many things I think I should be feeling right now, but above all I feel full of indescribable love. Secondly I feel tired and overwhelmed. Very tired. Very overwhelmed. A lot of love. I don't have any energy for anything else. (I found the socks and we're going outside now.)