My baby is probably the cutest baby who has ever lived. He has my eyes, eyebrows, and nose. He has my husband’s cheeks, lips, and forehead. He barely has any hair, but what he does have is slowly becoming curls. When I look at his chubby hands and squishy cheeks, my heart soars and I know I’ve found my purpose in life.
I’ve always wanted to be a mom. When they asked us in kindergarten what we wanted to be when we grew up, I said, “A mom!” So I’ve really been waiting for this moment my whole life.
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Pregnancy was so easy. Aside from being more tired, there was nothing else to complain about. There were no complications, no bad test results, nothing to worry about. I don’t want to brag because I know some moms have it hard. Pregnancy is difficult and labor is rough, but that just wasn’t my experience. The worst part was the nausea I got from the medication I received after the emergency cesarean. Looking back, even the emergency C-section wasn’t that hard. Everything else was bliss.
But I’m exhausted.
Not I need another hour of sleep tired, but mental and almost spiritual exhaustion. I rarely shower or eat breakfast. I always find myself half-dressed with some type of fluid on me, whether it’s spit-up or breastmilk. I haven’t read any book let alone the Bible since he was born. I haven’t been able to watch one episode of Grey’s Anatomy without being interrupted by a baby. I’m not even sure when I last had a meal when I wasn’t holding a baby.
But my son is so good. He still doesn’t sleep through the night, but he only gets up twice and goes back down within minutes. He rarely cries unless he’s hungry or tired. He loves playing with his toys, tummy time, and watching me cook in the kitchen. He doesn’t get irritated when other people hold him. He is a kind, funny, and well-behaved baby. He’s just draining me.
My husband is a God-send. Whenever he works from home, he always helps with the baby. He does his bath and bedtime routine every night. He tries at least once a day to put him down for a nap and succeeds about 60% of the time. I go out at least once a week by myself, and he’s never nervous or scared to be alone with our son. He does all the diaper changes at night, and if it’s a really bad night he’ll get up and rock our son to give me a break. He’s by far the best father I’ve ever seen and I’m eternally grateful.
But I’m still tired.
I love my life. I love my family. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Whenever my husband asks what he can do to help or what I need, I never have the answer. We are both doing exactly what we need to be doing at the exact capacity we can be doing things in. I don’t even know what would need to change. I don’t even know what I’m feeling.
I’m not sad or depressed. Lonely or touched-out. Motherhood is the best blessing that has ever been given to me (besides my husband of course), but it is also the most draining thing I have ever gone through.
He’s going to be six months old this week. Half a year with my little bubito, and I’m in awe of how fast time has gone and how much he’s learned already. I’m already dreading having to go back to work. My husband even mentioned the idea of me not going back to work, and I almost cried at the excitement of being able to be home with my baby.
So what am I supposed to do? What needs to change in me or around me? More me time? Date night? Girls night? Jesus?
Anytime I’m not with my baby, I just want to be with my baby.
I’m told this is just what motherhood is. The draining mixed with joy. I couldn’t think of a better way of describing it.
I can’t wait until he calls me “Mama” because that’s what I was made to be. His mama.