Friday, March 8, 2013


It has been 4 days since I evicted Thing 3. I'm trying to come up with a cute nickname for him, all I have done so far is call him the Dude's name 95% of the time. The only name that seems to fit so far is Perfection, and that's not terribly manly. But he so is... this boy is so shockingly sweet and kind - I almost am concerned he might not be mine, but he has the same strawberry birthmark on his forehead that both my previous progeny had so there's that.

I'm typing this out on my phone as I lie in bed so I'm limited in verbosity, but I feel like I should type a few things out as I process them.

When WonderGirl was born, it seemed like she was slightly frustrated. I took it to mean she was disappointed with the sub par mother she'd been assigned to, but I learned later it was because
she was frustrated with the immediate limitations of her infant body. The second she could run, talk, open things, learn multiplication, she seized on it and adored the thrill of doing. She has always been a bundle of brains.

When the Dude was born, I was immediately struck by his joy. He was so happy to be here and experience everything humanly possible. Husband summed it up perfectly one day while snuggling him -"It's like he's just genuinely excited to finally be on earth." He takes on life as a full-contact sport and it was obvious from the beginning.

When Thing 3 was placed in my arms, I was struck by one word - sweet. He was so SWEET. I don't know if I can adequately describe it, but he has these searching eyes that radiate a peace and, for lack of another adjective, sweetness. He's not a screamer - although his circumcision and subsequent diaper changes have helped him find his voice - but even then he stops crying as soon as he thinks the situation is under control and looks up at you with patience and hope. Also, he has been eating and sleeping like an absolute angel. Did we actually get a mild-mannered human in this family??? I hope we don't break him...

So we brought a wonderful human into the world. What about the infamous Reva aftermath?

Things are ... going to work out. Eventually. I have to accept that I have no control over the tears and the darkness and fretting about it just makes it worse. Also, I took the medication that we hoped would stop milk production, and the side effects got scarier over the last 3 days. I think today we are going to do a wait-and-see and assess tomorrow how things are feeling. I'm trying to listen to my body and figure out what I need, but that's a hard thing to do when my body has some very bad things to say that I am desperately trying to ignore.

Over the last 9 months I have cried and worried and fretted about how I would handle coming home with 3 children, a severely limited body and a sick mind. It was not easy, and I'm fighting the urge to lock myself in the bathroom and cry or hurt myself - but I'm managing because a miracle has taken place. Despite all the uncertainty, all of the sudden my house is filled with what feels like an army. There are physical soldiers - the husband is more on top of things than I could have ever imagined, and believe me, he's the most capable person I know so I can imagine a LOT already. His parents are here and are this force of nature - as much as I feel like I should worry and cry over my decreased abilities and lack of control and all the darkness I'm trying to keep inside, they have this house filled with a sense of IT'S OKAY. THIS TOO SHALL PASS. That's the opposite of what my body is saying, so I'm trying to stop fighting and allow the notion that the world is not ending permeate my soul. It's a very conscious, difficult thing to do. But being surrounded by physical angels and what I feel like is a host of spiritual angels is giving me the strength to try.

Yesterday I was sitting in my hospital bed, crying over my broken body and how much it hurts to not be in complete control and how I just want to stand up, shake the depression off and get to work RIGHT NOW. The husband sat next to me, held me tight and told me how thankful he was that I was willing to make the sacrifices I have to bring this perfect soul into the world.

I wish this was easier. I wish I didn't have these stupid weaknesses and obstacles. But I can't focus on that. I have to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel - that I will get better. That I will be in control again someday. And that I know that I have a Heavenly Father who knows and loves me, and has surrounded me with angels to get me to that light, as long as I hold on and listen to them.

I'll get there.


Tia Bearden said...

Oh, darling. I always worry about you so much during this time. You seem to be in a slightly better place this time. I hate that your body fights you and takes this wonderful time away and makes you so miserable. I'm always here if you need me. :)

You are a fantastic mother.

Mary said...

Hang in there seems like such a trite thing to say, but it's so accurate in these situations, isn't it? How wonderful that you have so many capable hands helping you through this time. Lean on them and breathe and HANG IN THERE. What beautiful words about your new little bundle. Lots of love.

Jane said...

So glad you have good people in your life. I hope you feel better quickly. It's okay to cry. Tears are just "a way to wash the hurt away."
And I will bring some jollys when I come. Lots of insane stories and stuff.
Be well and see you soon!

Morgan -Ing said...

One day at a time, Reva dear. I know we dont' really "know" each other but I've been around since long before the Dude was born, and I know you'll get through. One day at a time. And when a day is too long, one minute. One breath. All you have to do is breathe, and snuggle that new life.

You got this Momma. It will get better. One day, one minute and one breath at a time.

HEAR YE. I need to document the fact that I ran 3 miles and didn't feel like death.  So just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, I did...