There are times that I feel proud, like I've got it together. There are other times that I feel like a fraud. I wonder if random people at the grocery store, mall, where ever, can tell what my house really looks like when we are away at play. I am frightened that I am emitting certain signals that say, "we are here because we couldn't stand being there." These things really do plague me when I'm out in public with my brood.
My house never seems to come together all at once. Whether it is the children's domain that I just shut the door on and ignore, or if it is the laundry room where I just can't fathom bending over to pick up all the socks from the floor...I worry...constantly.
It is particularly difficult right now. The pull and push of my vacuum and tile cleaner are agony for me right now. The numbness that creeps up my legs (yes, even my good one) when I stand too long, punish me for trying. I can crawl upstairs at night proud of all my work, just to find that tomorrow it will all go back to hell in a hand basket because even picking up TLL brings tears to my eyes. I am trying in these last few weeks to find a healthy medium between letting the mess and clutter overtake us, and not letting the pain consume me as I battle it. It is hard.
I have always been a big believer in letting God decide how big a family should be ( leftover of my Catholic upbringing) but, this pregnancy has been so physically hard on me that I am pretty sure that I can't do this again. What I take away from my children who are here and need me, is causing my heart to ache. There are nights when that ache is a contender with the pain from my body.
My first two pregnancies were a breeze. I mean, I was good to go, didn't understand what people complained about, right up to labor and delivery. My third was pretty easy. With H, I was quite uncomfortable at the end, but, then again I worked my last shift in labor and then drove myself to the hospital. The fatigue nearly killed me in the first three months with TLL, the pressure at the end was pretty hellish. My stepson was living with us at the time and unemployed, so I had plenty of help, and could nap to my heart's content. This time around, I have been so tired that staying awake is hard. The pain and pressure have been constant companions for months now. I'm not sure if it is a culmination of two pregnancies too close together and single parenthood, or if it really does get harder the more you do it.
The only thing that I am certain of at the moment is that I have more laundry to do. I have to clean the tile, pick up the floor in my bedroom, vacuum, clean the kitchen counters, dust, and scrub bathrooms. Please God, give me the strength.
STILL Talking Amtrak Trip: Part Three
1 day ago