I had my first Mommy-Meltdown on Friday.
The Bee refused to take a nap, but was exhausted. I would just get her to sleep and five minutes later she would wake up crying. And cry. And cry and cry. And once she was that worked up, there was no end to the crying. For the first time in the six months she has been on this world, I had to put her down and walk outside for five minutes.
My job is to work with families and show that a new way of doing things. My advice is often pretty common sense stuff and I usually feel guilty for taking any money at all, let alone my hourly rate. And yet, I realize that often my clients don’t see the way out specifically because they are in so deeply. All they need is a fresh pair of eyes.
I’d forgotten that fundamental part of my professional life. In the last two weeks I have become increasingly impatient and worried. I wake up every morning wondering if this will be a good day. I go to sleep every night wondering if she will finally make it through the night again. I spend my days with a worry line between my eyes and my shoulder hitched up high.
I left my crying daughter in her crib so I could walk outside and wonder if I had made a monumental mistake in having a child because this, this is just too hard. I’m not a good enough mother to do this day in and day out. And what if my sweet and easy going baby is permanently replaced with this screaming monster who is attached to my hip. What if all my theories about raising a confident child amounts to a child who is too scared to ever be alone? What if I never get to go to the movies? Get my hair done? Work with my evening clients again?
When I began fantasizing about a life other than my own I decided a change of scenery was more important that sticking it out. Because being there for her at this point was only making it worse. I wasn’t comforting her at this point, I was wanting to be anywhere but here with her. And knowing that broke my heart.
I called my mother in tears and told her I needed a break. And even if the Bee cried while I was gone for just two hours she would be with someone who loved her, who would comfort her and hold her through her tears. And that is all I could do for her lately. Hold her when she cried and tell her I love her.
Of course the Bee fell asleep at 6:00pm and as soon as my mom walked in the door I was out. I called Mike to put our name into the restaraunt and for god’s sake order me a drink. A strong one. The whole way there I just yelled for the pure release of screaming.
And we had an awesome night. We talked about work, our party, our friends, made plans for vacation this year. For the first time in weeks we really connected. We had a moment of our lives before the Bee. Before our lives revolved around diaper services and the merits of one baby food over another. It was heavenly.
We got back about an hour after the baby woke up. She was sitting in my mom’s arms, cuddling her and happy. When I got home she looked up at me, smiled and help up her arms. And instead of resenting it, I craved it. I put her head under my chin and felt peaceful again.
Since then, the Bee has had a fine time. She spent the whole day with my mom on Saturday while we prepared for the party. My mom stayed close enough that I could come quickly if need be, but I never did.
This whole time I’ve been saying that I needed to stick this one out because the Bee needed her mama. That when she was upset only I could fix it. I got annoyed with my mom for even suggesting she could do it just as well as I could.
And the truth? The truth is that the Bee does need her mama. And no one can do it the way that I do. But what is also absolutely true is that it was my own vanity that caused my frustration. Because even though no one can do it the way that I do, doesn’t mean that their way isn’t just as good. I realized that the last two weeks was much more about me needing the Bee than the Bee needing me.
