The Days Are Long

Veteran mamas always tell me, “the days are long, but the years are short”. I hate that they are right.

Here I am, with 7 months of motherhood behind me already. My little girl has a tooth. How did we go from tiny little peanut on an ultrasound screen to this? It’s surreal. And yet it’s reality. Time just keeps on ticking.

But the days are long. The early mornings, the singing my thoughts all day to keep her entertained, the random errands to keep us busy (that may or may not end in me crying because-social anxiety). Those make up some long days.

The binge watching Netflix days (you know the ones). Where you have a little one or two playing at your feet, with My 600lb Life playing in the background all morning because you can’t quite keep your sanity.

But more often than not, in this new season of motherhood, the lengthy days have very little to do with her and much more to do with me. The thoughts that plague my brain over and over. “Am I doing any of this right?”, “am I a lazy housewife?”, “am I engaging her enough? Kissing her and squeezing her enough?”. The googling what’s normal, what stage she’s in, etc.

Ok maybe, some of you are just feeling like this day got a lot longer just reading the thoughts of this type A, anxiety prone mama, but my bet is you’ve been there too. Because there’s no manual. It’s all new. I am learning who she is and what she needs every day. But I am also learning who I am now, what I need, how to do both. Doing both, that’s what makes the days long. Her little smile and giggle, and teeny tiny hands grabbing my feet, that’s just a puddle of joy amidst my own intense thoughts.

Maybe a few years from now I’ll check back in with a toddler and a baby and tell you to forget everything I said before, that the kids make the days long-the tantrums, and throwing food, the balancing both, and keeping everyone alive. But for now, It’s just me and her. And I’m doing my very best to learn how to let go, but also hang on.

The most beautiful, frightening, journey I’ve ever been on. Blindly walking in who knows what direction, holding this teeny tiny person as close as I possibly can, and hoping for the best.

Thank you to my support system. You people are angels. Love you.