Momnesia

When people see me with my five children, I get all the standard questions:  “Are they all yours?,”  “Are you old enough to have so many children?,” and “Don’t you know how that happens?”  With this fifth baby, being that there is more than 6 years between him and our next oldest child, I also get asked more than ever, “Was he a ‘surprise baby’?”  I think the only surprise is that I’m not offended anymore by the random questions people ask. 

And for the record, no – Eli was not a surprise.  We worked harder for him than any of the other four (especially since two of the other four *were* surprises…tee hee). 

When people initially asked us why we decided to start all over again, I had such a sage response.  I can still hear myself in all my wisdom: 

“We had gotten to a point with the four kids when they were more independent from us.  We could go places and relax.  I could read a book start to finish.  I ate my meals hot.  I took long showers.  And you know what I realized?  SO WHAT.  I’ll be able to do all of that again, when they’re grown and gone.  I’ll only be really able to *raise* them at this stage of my life.  So why not have more?” 

I also tell people truthfully that it took me this long to realize that I could do it again.  None of the reliable arguments - pain of pregnancy/labor, not enough money/time - were strong enough for me to deny that I really did want a larger family.  Our idea of a desireable family size is based on having as many as we can care for – and by “care,” I mean financially AND emotionally.  I felt that after six years I was ready.

There’s a lot of talk about how moms “forget” the pain of labor – how something in our hormones allows us to transcend the struggle and ultimately choose to have more kids.  That’s not the kind of momnesia I’ve been experiencing lately.  

With the way Eli has been crying, not sleeping, going through drastic mood swings, I have “forgotten” that everything will work out alright.  It’s made me “forget” that I’m not the lamest mother on the planet.  I wasn’t blogging when my other babies were tiny, and I didn’t keep very good journals, either.  I don’t remember how I dealt with all the uncertainty of a baby’s schedule and personality, and at some point last week I had myself convinced that my life was going to be rotten forever. 

Looking at my older children – realizing that somehow I managed to grow them into non-slobbering, well-sleeping, kindhearted human beings – hasn’t helped me one little bit.  Late at night, early in the morning, whenever it is that I’m craddling my shrieking child, I see nothing but an eternity of struggle with him.  It is *amazing* how soon we can forget!

In the midst of a pretty cruddy time last week, I just looked at Eli and started bawling.  I hadn’t really let it out, all the frustration I had been feeling.  I said out loud (in a very strange kind of prayer), “This child makes me miserable!”.  It probably sounds horrible, but it helped so much.  It really helped me to identify how I was feeling, to acknowledge that sometimes I have negative feelings about this child whom I love SO MUCH.  I cried and cried and cried, and when my oldest daughter got home, I handed her the baby and went and cried some more, alone. 

Remember how I said “So what!” to the books and hot meals and long showers?  No!no!no!  I didn’t mean it!  I want them back!  That’s how I was feeling.  And then I read a funny comment on someone’s blog – she was having her own problems and realized that she needed to “put her big girl pants on.”  Yeah, I thought to myself, that’s it.  You’re the mom.  Get over it.  Why did you do this in the first place?  Oh, yeah, because I LOVE MY FAMILY.  I can do this, it will be alright.  We will get there.  I cannot forget.

I’m painfully aware that the very same hormones that have made me a mother can also make me a little crazy, and that’s just the kind of week I had last week.  My greatest relief is that I can express all this to my husband and kids and they don’t worry or get scared, they just help and comfort.  And when I decide to let my Father in Heaven help me, He does so much to heal me.

Eli has actually had a fabulous last few days.  I’m learning – very slowly – to relax about when and how he sleeps.  I’m learning to approach my days differently and provide different kinds of interactions with him.  I’ve done the checklist of things that could be upsetting him, and we’re looking at particular ones a little more closely.   Most importantly, I’m starting to remember that I know how to do this, that I’m a good mom, that he will end up a perfectly fine, contributing member of society.  Either that, or someone else will have to be there to feed him at 3am!