The last few days have been rough with Bella. She’s just been in this mood; whiny, early up, hard time going to sleep, one hour naps, falling apart at the tiniest things, refusing to eat.
Mentally, I’m fried. I feel like I’m stretched to the very max. I keep tuning her out completely and half the time don’t even know what she’s whining about anymore – because it’s gone on for so long. I find myself giving in to just get silence, or snapping because I have drawn happy, sad, and scared faces, made airplanes, played, danced, and done everything I can think of.
Anyway, I realize this is just a phase and it’s not really what this post is about. What it’s about is me starting to wonder:
Are we crazy for wanting to add more screaming, more stress, more noise to our home?
I love Bella. I wouldn’t trade her for anything. I wouldn’t change my life for anything. But honestly, how on earth did we make a rational decision to do this again?
Can I do this? Everyone says, “Oh, you just get in a routine, you just get used to it, blah blah,” but I question if I can truly handle two without losing my mind or collapsing in exhaustion. What if it just takes over my life? What if being a mother is so all consuming that by the end of the day I can’t do anything but sleep? Am I just supposed to push this all aside and hope for the best? Jump into it and deal with whatever comes?
I know there will be good times and wonderful moments. It just seems like so many of the second time moms I’m reading are so tired, so strung out, stretched to their max. I hear about their days and wonder if I can cope. It appears that most of the time (note the most as I’m sure not everyone feels like this) things are just a disaster, a mess with tiny moments of happiness. They are simply trying to survive. Their blogs are filled with stories of the kids screaming, terrorizing each other, making messes, crying, and taking turns being up all night. The friends I meet at moms groups with two look at me and say, “Be ready, it’s non stop and it gets harder as they get older.”
This terrifies me.
It’s so hard because there is no middle ground. No trial period. It’s not like I can say, “Well, this isn’t working. Let’s send Jimmy back because we weren’t ready for two.” It’s all the way. All or nothing.
And what if I can’t do it? What if I just remain in a perpetual, zombie like coma for a year or more?
Is it worth it?
And yet, is it worth it not to – and could I ever be ok knowing that I took an easier way because I was afraid?
I guess this is one of those points in life where you make a decision, jump in with both feet, and pray hard that you find the strength for whatever lays ahead of you in the years to come.