Thursday, May 23, 2013

4 months and beautifully broken

He rolled over the day he turned four months old. He laughs and he knows who I am. A mommas boy to say the least. He looks at me when my my eyes wonder past his to his brother's picture on the tv stand and he smiles that toothless smile and crumples up his neck. Sometimes, I swear he knows that I'm beautifully broken.

As a baby loss mommy, I vowed from the very second the dust cleared from the wreckage that IF I was ever pregnant again and IF I ever actually had a baby in my arms that I would never ever complain.

It is a tug of war I play with myself everyday. It gets painful.

Isaac is a blessing. He pretty much sleeps all night and even though I was used to 10 plus hours before he arrived, I do pretty good on the 6 or 7 that he allows.

I would be lying if I said it was all easy and that I wake up like a stepford wife my hair always done, my makeup flawless, I get all the laundry put away and dinner on the table and that I carry a smile on my face at every single moment.

The truth is its painfully hard. I'm beautifully broken.

I'm nothing like I used to be. Brody changed me first. Everything became real. I would have danced in the rain. I mean, I found truth in everything. I found beauty in everything. If the sky would have fallen, I would have said it was meant to be.

Today, I'm new. I'm simple. I live for one thing only from day to day. Isaac. He makes me find joy in the most simplest of thoughts. When he cries, I truly feel pain.

But...sometimes it gets hard. I'm still a mom. A broken one, but still I am

I get frustrated and I tug, I've cried when he cried and I tug, I get to feel like I need to lock myself in the pantry like Charlotte in Sex in the City and I tug.

It's the guilt and I know it. Guilt or the Devil.

They both try to bring me down and feel guilty for feeling normal thoughts. I know their normal because Ive heard other moms talk about it.

What if I was broke to be fixed? A thought that has occurred more than once, believe me.

What if God thought I would have been a horrible mother to Brody? What If I would have lost my cool? What if I would have ended up like one of those crazy moms who just cannot take it anymore and runs off to Florida never to be seen again? So he broke me, he took the biggest chunk of me.

What if Isaac was my fix? What if he was meant to put me back together.

Its all in a form of a very large pill. And they are all hard to swallow.

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