11 days since Easton arrived.
11 days since I officially became a “‘mama of 2.”
11 nights of almost 0 sleep (though I can’t remember the last time I slept for an entire night anyways.)
Countless diapers, pull-ups, loads of laundry, an obscene amount of coffee and tears. So. Many. Tears.
Tears from the baby.
Tears from the two year old.
Tears from me.
I’d be lying if I said I have enjoyed the past 11 days. They’ve been hard. Really, really hard. Newborns are hard. Two year olds are hard. Being home alone with one of each is hard. Watching my husband walk out the door at 7 am and not seeing him come back in til 7-8 pm every night is hard. Letting him sleep in the guest room so (in theory) he can get more rest is hard. I’ve spent most of my showers (that I haven’t shared with my 2 year old) a puddle on the floor crying.
“I haven’t done enough today.”
“What is wrong with me.”
“I miss my husband.”
“I miss Gage.”
“Was I too hard on Gage today?”
“Did I spend quality time with Gage? With Easton?”
“Am I making the right choices for my kids?”
“Am I doing everything I can to make this house a home for my kids and my husband?”
“Am I serving my husband?”
“Are my kids healthy?”
“Oh gosh, they’re not getting sick are they?”
“Why did my big boy stop sleeping through the night? Will he ever sleep again?”
” Will I ever sleep again?”
“Will I ever look like anything other than a sleep deprived zombie again?”
“How many more episodes of Blaze and the Monster Machines can one watch before going insane?”
“Will I ever stop crying?”
But the love. The love is so much stronger. The love I feel when I look at my sleeping 2 year old or how much my heart almost bursts when he hugs my neck and kisses my face and says “love you mommer.” (His new term of endearment for me because I call him Gager.) the love I feel when I look at my newborn’s sweet face or feel him snuggle up into my neck and fall asleep. The complete and utter love I feel when I see the excitement my husband and my two year old have when they see each other after a long day. The way my husband loves on and hugs and plays with Gage. The way he lays Easton on his chest to rest or cooes and talks to him and rubs his little belly as he’s laying on the floor. The rare, but oh so sweet moments when Gage loves on his new brother.
It’s not easy. I’m learning even more to depend on the Lord for my strength and to get me through each day.
It’s messy. It’s exhausting. Sometimes it’s lonely. But our home is full of so much love. And some day I’m going to look back and miss the toys scattered around the house, and the endless amount of bottles and laundry to wash, and sharing my showers with a two year old, and the sweet baby snuggles I get after each night feeding…
This morning I saw this video and blog post on Facebook as I was laying in bed with a newborn on my chest and a toddler clinging to my waste as he had all night. I hadn’t even been remotely asleep since around midnight. And this video just hit me like. Ton of bricks.