When Love Gets Hard

Most days, I feel like I’m drowning.

Most days, I feel like I’m working all day, but not getting anything done.

Most days, I cry out of frustration that I have so much going on, I will never, ever, see the end of my to-do list.

Most days are hard. Being a working Mom I have all the responsibilities of a stay at home mom, plus my work responsibilities, and most days, it’s too overwhelming to bear.

There are chores to do, meals to cook, mountains of bills to be paid, work to go to, homework to do, cars that refuse to stop breaking down and need to be fixed, a baby to clothe, bathe, feed, and entertain, and a dog to care for.

Most days I cherish the time I get to spend nursing, I get to sit and be still and spend time with my baby.

Most days, I count down the minutes until nap time when I can finally get things done uninterrupted. But once nap time comes, I count down the minutes until I can wake him up and hold him again.

Most mornings I rush around getting everything ready before we leave for work. And before I leave I scoop up my baby to spend a few quiet moments with him.

Most mornings I cry the whole way to work because I had to leave him.

Most evenings, when my husband finally walks through the door I am flooded with relief. And then guilt.

Relief that I finally have some help. Relief that I have another grown up to talk to. Relief that I can collapse into his arms if I need to and cry about my stressful day and he’ll listen.

Guilt that he has to come home to a house where dinner still isn’t finished, and there’s piles of unfolded laundry that I’ve promised I’ll get to and a hyper dog who hasn’t been walked yet.

Guilt that I sometimes take my frustrations out on him. Guilt because I know I snap, and I know I’m not always kind. Guilt because I say things I don’t mean because I’m just so tired.

Guilt because the last thing I want to do is be loving. The last thing I want to do is be kind and understanding and love. I want to break down. I want to cry about my stress. I want to have someone to blame for how overwhelmed I feel.

My goal every day is to just be a better Wife and Mother than I was the day before. And sometimes, I fall short. I know that. I know I can always be better. And I have to be, for them. They deserve the best of me.

Most nights, when I lay Sawyer down in his crib and watch his little chest go up and down, I am so thankful. Thankful for the hospital bills that provided his heath. Thankful for the piles of laundry of his clothes. Thankful for the job that helps me to provide for him. Thankful for my never ending to do list, because it keeps my house in order, a place for our family to make memories and grow. Thankful to the hyper dog, for bringing me joy. Thankful to my husband, for helping as best he can, and being an amazing Dad to our little boy. And above all, thankful to God, for loaning Sawyer to us.

And I choose to love. I choose to love the dog who’s driving me crazy. I choose to love my husband even when I want to snap at him. I choose to love my baby, because he’s given me zero reason to feel otherwise.

Most nights, I go to bed happy.


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