Momalom is hosting the half-drunk challenge (see the button on the right??). This challenge is for both lushes and teetotalers. It is a challenge of bravery. Since I don’t drink (never have, never will), I decided to write this in a sleep deprived state. My delirium after 4 hours of interrupted sleep dampens my senses as much as a couple of alcoholic drinks. I am writing something of a serious nature. Something that has occupied my mind. Not quite in line with Sarah’s first half-drunk post (the initiation?), but something that requires me to be in an abnormal state to admit to. To write about. Readers, be kind.
In the wee hours of the early morning,
And in the middle of the night,
I am caught in a trembling state
As I think about that thing that frights.
My body is rigid,
As this fear thrusts me,
Into the throes of a winter storm
Despairing to be free.
Attempting to ease my mind,
from these woeful thoughts,
I thrash about my bed
to escape from being caught.
What is this fear?You might ask.
But I am afraid to answer
Wondering if I speak out loud
the truth will become my captor.
The answer must be spoken, and done without clever rhymes. If I pursued that lovely poem, I would never uncover this secret.
I was attending college full-time when the Queen was born. My mind was engrossed with assignments and exams. So much that I felt I could barely devote time to my precious baby. My husband and I shared the tasks that accompany having a child. For that, I am grateful. At the same time, I felt I was cheating my baby out of having a mother. A good mother. One that cuddled when needed, fed on demand, and didn’t get frustrated with crying, feedings, and other things that consumed my valuable time.
For practically the first year of the Queen’s life, I was in school. When I finally graduated, I became a stay-at-home mom.I did not know how to handle being with my daughter without school’s burdens. Without being incessantly hammered by various school assignments. Without being busy.
I tried to play with her, but I didn’t know what to do. I felt lousy.
The Queen is an independent girl. She has been since birth. It was God’s intention, because He knew I, and my husband, would be busy with classes.
Each day of my newly uncluttered life brought in new anxieties. The education I received, which focuses on children, seemed useless. I felt I knew less than before I went to school.
The birth of Manly has increased this anxiety. I hold, comfort, and feed Manly without worrying about time because I have all the time in the world. Yet, those same thoughts about the Queen creep into my mind.
Do I actively engage with the Queen enough? When she grows up, will she remember her early years with sadness? Pain? Hurt? Am I a bad Mommy because I still do not focus on the Queen?
These are my thoughts almost every night and morning. They devour any peace I might have, like hungry wolves upon an animal’s carcass. As I rock Manly to sleep, these thoughts will enter into my mind. I start to feel like I am suffocating. As if I am under water and am unable to reach the top. The life saving air is beyond my grasp. I am drowning in anxiety.
Dear readers, I tell you this, not for pity, but for understanding. I write to soothe my soul. To provide words where I otherwise lacked. To breathe in the succulent air of freedom.
To your sage selves, I entreat your wisdom for answers to these questions.
How do you cope with your anxieties?
How do you effectively divide your time between two (or more!) children?
Do you feel this at times?