Here's the deal: when we moved Blythe it was as if nothing had changed. She simply went to sleep, never once got out of the bed, and continued sleeping from 7:30-8 a.m. for us. Blythe is just now potty-training through the night, which has actually been pretty easy... after we convinced her it was okay to get out of bed. At almost 4, she still wouldn't get up unless we came in and gave her explicit permission. [Side note: If you have a first child who does things perfectly like this, either stop having children or be prepared to realize with number two that you actually know very little, that you don't "do it right", and that your first child just came pre-programmed to be awesome and make you think more highly of yourself and your skillz than you should].
Enter Becks Lynae. I love this child fiercely and deeply and in ways I never knew a mama heart could love. But like I told my sister the other day via text: Becks may very well be my penance.
She is stubborn and intense. She is demanding and defiant. She is also hilarious and sweet as pie and cute as all get-out, which is how God has protected her. I knew she wouldn't "go gentle into that good night" like Blythe, and it's actually more like "rage, rage against the dying of the light!" [My apologies. It's the English teacher in me. I digress.] It also doesn't help that she is now sharing a room. It also doesn't help that her bed is directly on the floor.
The first couple of nights and naps were doable. She eventually gave up the fight. But then...oh then... she figured out that I am exhausted. She figured out that my waddling 33 week self has very little patience and stamina. She started banging on the doors [thank heavens she can't turn the doorknobs yet!], she started rummaging through drawers and throwing clothes on the floor, she started flinging anything she could find off of shelves. All in the pitch black. She started shouting at Blythe to ensure she would stay awake and be cranky as well.
Last night Brent was gone and it all came to a head. It was ugly. I was ugly. The girls were ugly. Let's just say there weren't any dry eyes in the house and at one point I literally walked out of their room and said out loud, "Get behind me, Satan!"
And you know how it ended?
It ended with me, two hours into the ordeal, hastily throwing a new crib sheet back in the crib [that I had already stripped and cleaned for baby], picking up a screaming and crying Becks while telling a crying Blythe I would be right back, placing her back in the confines of her familiar crib in her solo room, returning to Blythe and calming her down, and then promptly crashing in my own bed in tears.
I had failed.
I felt like a failure. Not just at not being able to get my not-even-two-year old to lay down and sleep in her bed, but at everything lately. I haven't been able to engage the girls like I would like to. I physically can't do much. I'm tired and my patience is thin. The girls listen to Brent way more than they listen to me and they would have gone to sleep without issue for him, I was just sure of it.
All these lies were just coming at me and I just started praying, "Jesus, speak your truth into me right now. Tell me who I really am." And I fell asleep before I had any real revelations.
It was exhausting. This morning I apologized to the girls for being crabby. But then nap time rolled around and the banging on doors began and I felt like I was slipping into that place again.
Interestingly enough, I've been reading a book called "The End of Me" by Kyle Idleman. He walks through the seemingly upside down ways of Jesus through the Sermon on the Mount. He says things like,
"Blessed are you when you're so broke you have nothing to offer." "Broken people reveal the power and beauty of God. Flaws are openings." "Pride is best buddies with insecurity."
Oh.
So it's okay that I'm broken.
It's okay that I'm weak.
It's okay that I cry.
It's okay that I need Jesus more now.
It's not okay that I act out of a place of pride or insecurity with my girls.
It's not okay that I let this state of weakness make me feel less than.
It's not okay that I act out of impatience or anger.
But it's okay to break some days.
And I don't have a solution for what we're going to do. I don't know if I can keep trying. I don't know if we'll have a crib to put this new baby in because Becks may still be in hers.
I don't have a solution. I have nothing to offer.
I am going to rest in my brokenness and let God tell me who I am these days.
I need to rest in the peace of God these days.
"The peace of God, which surpasses every thought, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7
Jesus, guard my heart and mind. Walk with me in my weakness. Reveal yourself in my brokenness.
3 comments:
I am so sorry you feel this way, sweet woman child. I know it is small comfort to know that EVERY mother feels this way, and I know that you will have more of these days. I also know you will get better. You will actually get used to it. It's just how raising kids goes. You will learn to adjust your expectations, you will learn to let some things go. You will learn that life is still wonderful when it doesn't follow the perfect plan in your head for how things are supposed to be. You are a wonderful mother, and both of you are wonderful parents. Children ALWAYS listen more to the dads. Actually, any man, they don't even have to be their actual father. I think it's the deep voice coupled with the fact that they just don't get as much time around the dad, or men in general. Kids know what their mothers will do, because they are around them all the time, they know their mothers intimately. AND in most cases, they know their mothers will always love them no matter how bad they are. That is a good thing that is hard to keep sight of day to day. It drove me insane and made me feel jealous, which was a pretty bitter pill to swallow. Motherhood is full of bitter pills, but they can and will be swallowed. Sigh.
Try not to let the bad days overshadow the good days. You did great! I would have just laid down with them and slept in their room, or let them sleep with me. It would not have been the end of the world. Kids come with their own plans. I have found that it is easy to say "Thy will be done", but actually adjusting my own plans is a lot harder. After you become a mother, you never go back to being the person you used to be, and you will find that you wouldn't trade that for anything. Once a mother, always a mother. You've crossed over, whether you know it or not and are now being forged in steel. ;) Take heart! You're a warrior whether you like it or not.
Sweet dreams to you all, wherever and whatever time you find them.
Oh, girl, I hear you, I hear you, I HEAR YOU! Hang in there!
This sounds so very familiar! Emerson did fine with transitioning to a big boy bed for a few months, but then one day he'd had enough [or figured out that he could get out of his bed] and the battle began. ...It's mostly over? But there were days and nights when I camped outside of his bedroom door and just took him back to bed every single time he ran out of his room. Unfortunately for us, we have the easy kind of lever doorknobs and he'd long since been a pro at opening doors [when we move.... it's the round doorknobs for us!]. It was awful and I was pregnant with no patience and exhausted anyway. Basically it was terrible and I am so so very sorry that you are having to deal with a strong willed little girl. I'll pray that she starts staying in her bed! Were you able to get that bunny clock? Has it helped at all? I'm hoping so for your sake! Even though I know you're exhausted and can't wait for the day to come when this battle is over, know that you are not in it alone! I'm praying for you and Becks to get her act together ;)
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