The past few days have shown me that I really can do more than I think I can. That my attitude really does have a major effect on how well I handle the day-to-day things. And now that I've finally acknowledged that realization, I can't decide if I'm proud....or ashamed.
Being rear-ended by some texting teenager while six weeks pregnant really sucked. An extremely uncomfortable ambulance ride took me to a hospital filled with (in my opinion) arrogant and incompetent people--I mean seriously, when I told the doctor I was pregnant, he told me I probably wasn't, then when the pregnancy test came up positive, came back and informed me I was indeed pregnant (well, duh!) and because of that, he couldn't do anything for me. Go home, take some tylenol, have a great day!
That's it? Gee, thanks doc.
The next nine months were the most painful of my life. Words really cannot express how much pain I was in--constant, never-ending pain. All while chasing down an energetic one-year-old. If you don't believe me, feel free to ask Chaz. He will be more than willing to tell you how impossible I was to deal with throughout those long, interminable nine months. It was a living nightmare.
Things got a little better after Daphnie was born. I mean, I wasn't carrying a nine-pound baby in my uterus anymore--that took a bit of pressure off of my back. Of course, now I was carrying a nine-pound baby around on my hip, so it pretty much equaled out.
The point is, I've still been in a lot of pain. Day-to-day, constant pain. Granted, now it's more like a constant 7 instead of a constant 9, but it's still not a walk in the park. Unfortunately, this has not had the greatest effect on my parenting skills...or my marriage.
Chaz has said a number of times during some of our more serious discussions that I am not the woman he married. And he's right. I'm not. The woman he married was in shape, active, fun (in his words). Now my idea of fun is sitting on the couch with a can of Dr Pepper watching Grey's Anatomy while the kids nap. I am constantly stressing. About everything. Money, the kids, the future, the failing plumbing, money to take care of the failing plumbing, bills, the kids, am I a good enough mom, getting to church, money, the kids, am I putting enough effort into my marriage, is Chaz bored with me, am I making Chaz happy, buying a new house, money. And so on it goes. All while living each day in pain. Definitely NOT who I was four years ago.
Chaz made the comment to me the other night while coming home from the grocery store that he doesn't feel like I'm ever happy. He comes home from work and I'm tired and worn out and stressed. I hate that he feels that way because I don't think of myself as an unhappy person. But if you were to randomly ask me how I was feeling, happiness probably would not be the first emotion that would come to my mind. I had to really stop myself from not beating myself up when Chaz told me he doesn't ever come home to me happy. I had to stop myself from only hearing "You have failed. You're not good enough." Because that thought process did pop up almost immediately. But I knew he didn't mean it like that. He was just trying to be honest with me.
One of the other things he said to me that I've spent the last few days pondering over is that if I'm going to be in pain anyway, one way or the other, shouldn't I have a better attitude about it? Instead of focusing on how stressed I am, how unsatisfied with things I am, how much pain I'm in every day, shouldn't I really try to have a more positive attitude about things and make the best out of things?
My immediate reaction, again, was resentment and anger for being told I wasn't good enough. That I wasn't handling things properly. That I was a shitty wife and mother. But after that immediate reaction, I acknowledged to myself that he was right. I do tend to let myself get mired down in negativity, more so when he's at home. When I'm at home by myself with the girls, I do try really hard to stay positive, to be in a good mood for the girls' sake. But when Chaz gets home, he's able to take some of the load of the girls away and I'm free to sink into the tiredness and the frustration that I've been hiding all day. And that's not fair to him and it's really not fair to me either. Because in the end, I'm selling myself short.
I've been sick since Tuesday. Congested sinuses, sore throat, achy body, headaches. And both of the girls have been sick since Thursday. And Chaz has been working overtime. 12 hours on Friday, working today and tomorrow (his normal two days off). So I've been sick, dealing with two sick babies by myself for the most part. Sounds like a recipe for fun, yeah?
So last night was absolute hell. The girls were up all night and I do mean, all night. I don't think they finally went to sleep until about 4am and then Daphnie was up again at 6:30 and Aubrey was up at 8:30. I've been going on practically no sleep, feeling like absolute crap all day, dealing with two very tired, very fussy babies.
However, the day has not been bad. The fact that the girls didn't feel good completely took precedence over the fact that I didn't feel good. I've spent the day with either one or the other or both girls cuddled up on my lap, dozing in and out, fussing here and there, watching the same Disney movies over and over to keep them as happy as possible. I've been giving out cough medicine and tylenol, cleaning up vomit, taking temperatures and speaking to a nurse. All the while my nose has been either stuffed up or running like crazy, my throat is on fire and my back is killing me. Yet none of that has really seemed to matter all day because I've been so focused on trying to keep the girls as comforted as possible.
Chaz got home from work around 4 and I was so grateful to see him but I didn't immediately sigh with relief, hand him the reins and go into hiding. Did I refuse to ask for help....no. But I didn't give him the attitude I so often have in the past--that oh great, he's home from work, it's his turn to deal with the kids and I can have a break attitude. And I've done that when I've been well, when I haven't been dealing with some sort of sinus infection or whatever this is, when the girls have been well and well-behaved and the day hasn't been that bad.
Chaz has a point. All things being equal, it really does come down to attitude. I'm going to be in pain either way so I can either wallow in that knowledge and be miserable, or I can live my life and enjoy the moments I have with my family while they're available to have.
I'm not saying there won't be days that will be rough for me, where I will feel overwhelmed and tired and frustrated and be counting down the minutes til Chaz walks it the door. And that's ok. And if you don't believe that, feel free to check out this dad's blog. (Seriously, it's amazing for anyone with young kids!) But I really do need to remember that the day will take on the hue of whatever mood I'm in. So if I get up in the morning and decide that it's going to be a good day, whether that means doing three loads of laundry, cleaning up the kitchen and having dinner on the table at 5pm, or spending the day camped out in the living room building block towers with the girls, it will be a good day. And if I stay busy, if I stay happy, maybe the pain won't get in so many punches.
As I said, coming to this realization has filled me with equal parts pride and shame. Acknowledgement is the first step and now I can take the next steps in living a better and happier life and providing happier lives for the people most important to me. For that I feel pride. That it's taken me this long to come to that realization, acknowledging that I've probably made my husband's life a living hell more often than not because it's been easier to whine and complain and blame him for "not understanding"--yeah, that's not such a hot feeling.
Admitting your flaws in not easy. Of this, I am well aware. But once you're able to admit those flaws--and I mean truly admit them to yourself and fully embrace them as part of your being--taking charge and making changes is that much easier.
I thank God that He blessed me with a man who has accepted me, flaws and all, and more importantly does not shrink away from bringing me face-to-face with those flaws and demanding that I do something about them. But not for his sake. Not to make his life better or easier. For my sake. To make my life better and easier. To make me more satisfied and happy with who I am as a person, as a wife, as a mother.
I am truly blessed. Even with the congested sinuses and the sore throat and the fussy babies. I mean, c'mon--a girl can't have everything, right?
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