The first thing out of my mouth when my doctor had told me what happened was, “But, I told so many people.”
In those first moments, that was my biggest source of stress and fear and sadness: having to turn around and tell everyone the terrible news.
And I went over it and over it in my head for days before figuring out what to say and how to say it. WHY had I told everyone? WHAT had come over me? WHO did I think I was?
I knew I had to just say it, to get it out there in the open. Like ripping off a band-aid. It would be painful, it would be awkward, but it just had to be done.
When I did start letting people know, I got the hugest heaping helping of love and support from so many people, some of which I have never even met in real life. Many of them had suffered similar losses in the past, and had gone on to have a full brood, and I found that really helpful to hear.
It helps me deal with things to have all that support and understanding, which is helping me cope with the whole “telling people too soon” thing. I thank you all for your kindness, love and understanding as I tread these very murky waters.
My brain decided it was time to be awake at about 4:30 a.m. this morning. I often wake up one or two times during the night, so it wasn’t a big surprise. What really surprised me though, was how awake I was.
I tried and tried to fall back asleep, because I was still very tired physically. But I could not turn off my brain! My mind was bouncing around like a ping pong ball.
Part of this is from my famous excessive worrying problem, and it’s not the first time I haven’t been able to fall asleep because I was worried about something. But this IS the first time I couldn’t fall back asleep at 4:30 a.m. and I didn’t have a specific worry item keeping me up. Just basic worry.
I wasn’t worried about a biggie like a job interview or paying a bill or a sick kid or anything worthy of staying awake at that ungodly hour. I was worried I’d forget to thaw meat for tonight’s dinner. And had I forgotten to sweep the living room? And I wonder how I should dress Bowie for preschool today. THIS is what my mind wanted to do at 4:30 this morning.
What strategies do you use to calm the worries, shut off your brain for the night, and fall asleep (or back to sleep)?
Photo credit: mconnors from morguefile.com
Today some friends and I were sitting around talking about a typical day in the life of a parent. One of them works outside the home, one works part time in the home and the other does not work. I work full time in the home, and I don’t have any help (i.e. nanny or babysitter) and all three of them said, “I have no idea how you do it.”
Quite frankly, I don’t either. I have 18 hour days, yeah, but it never feels like that. It mostly involves a lot of sitting in the playroom with my laptop, timing conference calls with naptime or dinnertime, letting the housework go sometimes (if it weren’t for guests, my floors would never be vacuumed) and just tapping into that never-ending mom energy to get done what needs to be done. And yet somehow I have time to blog, read a magazine, make a cup of tea, watch a TV show, paint my toenails, breathe.
Working at home with no help was, of course, a LOT easier when Bowie was 4 months and immobile. I could just lay him on his back under a playmat with some dangly toys and I’d be set for a few hours. Then I’d put him down for a nap and have a few more hours. Now that he’s walking and taking one 2 hour nap a day, it’s rough. I’ve had to get more creative with how I manage my time and fit in an 8 hour day’s worth of work.
If I were tied to a 9-5 schedule, there’s no way I could do it. I’d have to hire some help. Every day gets harder and harder but I still find ways to get by. I have no idea how I do it, but I do.