There are times when life is easy. Everything falls into place. You think of someone and they call you. You turn into a parking lot and there's a spot in front with your name on it. Someone let's you go first in the grocery line and when they accidentally make a latte instead of a cappuccino for the guy ahead of you at the coffee shop, you get a free latte and that's what you were going to order anyway! When you come home, your husband is making your favorite dish and he cleaned the house too. Your child plays gleefully until 6:30 pm and then goes down for the night without a fuss. Sometimes life just doesn't require a whole lot of effort and unfortunately, this is just not one of those times.
When life is requiring more effort than I am able or willing to put forth, I sometimes take to cyberstalking. Not creepy cyberstalking, more like benevolent voyeurism. Go ahead and judge, you know you do it too. Anyway, it's a ridiculous thing to do. No one is going to post a picture of themselves having a emotional breakdown.We only post the good stuff. Which of course always leads me to wonder if I'm the only one arguing with life.
I went through this when I was pregnant and when Ellis was a young baby. I hated being pregnant. I didn't like losing control over my body. I felt sick for 15 weeks and I couldn't drink a beer to ease my angst. I had symptoms of preeclampsia so I had to stay in bed. I missed a lot of work and I gained 70 pounds. When Ellis was born I experienced an elation that does not compare to anything I have ever felt in this life. I was floored with joy and awe and gratitude. That lasted about three days. I couldn't figure out how to breastfeed, the baby blues set in, she got jaundiced and I was pretty much convinced that I was going to die or worse yet, she was. It was all so much harder than I thought it would be. I felt like a failure and a bad mom. I looked around, because coincidentally everyone else was having a baby at the same time and everyone else looked rested, thin, happy and their babies were not yellow.
It was odd to me that there wasn't a support group for new parents. Aaron and I would often look at each other and I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me, namely "What the fuck?!?!? Tell me this gets easier." The brave moms who were willing to be vulnerable and admit that they also had no clue, will forever be my angels. I still don't understand why we keep our defenses up, our veils on, our perfect facebook airs about us after we've done something as profound as creating and birthing another human. What about taking a shit in front of a bunch of people doesn't make you humble and open?
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