Always Rushing

Since having a baby I feel like I’m constantly rushing through everything.

Rushing through dinner so I can nurse him before he gets too fussy. Rushing to get in bed because I don’t know how long I’ll get to sleep before he wakes up. Rushing home from work so I can spend time with him. Rushing to get ready in the morning before he needs me and it starts all over again. Rushing. Rushing. Rushing.

By the time I finally lay my head down for the night I don’t even know what happened. It’s all a blur.

The weekends are a little better. At least then I get to be with him all the time and I don’t feel like I need to play, and teach, and nurse, and read, again and again and again and make sure I’m doing everything I can to help him learn and grow and make him love me even though he’s not with me as much as he should be. Oh wait, that’s exactly how I feel.

And maybe that’s just it. Maybe I feel like I’m constantly trying to make up for lost time that I try to do it all and constantly worry if I’m doing it all right.

He’s my baby boy. My entire world. I want him to know that. I want him to feel the same way about me.

He does. Doesn’t he? He will. Won’t he?

And now I can’t wait for him to run to me and hug me and say “I love you, mommy!” so that I know. While at the same time I’m saying “Stop stop stop! You are getting too big too soon!”

So while I rush and rush and rush through the days, I need to slow down and take it all in while I can.

It’s ok if he fusses for a moment longer, or wakes up an hour after I shut my eyes. If I get home a minute later it’s (sort of) ok, and if I don’t have time to dry my hair every morning, so what? I still have him here in front of me.

It’s these times, and all the time, that will pass by so fast. I’ll look back when I’m old and say “Wow, that was my life. Where did it all go?”




On the Eve of my 30th Birthday

As I begin my 4th decade on this earth, I am looking both backward and forward. My life has had its fair share of ups and downs, but I would say more ups than downs. Do I feel like I’m about to be 30 years old? Not really. Do I look like I’m about to be 30 years old? Definitely not (I just got ID’d quite sternly this past weekend, and when she saw my birth date she laughed!). Am I happy where I am in life at 30 years old? Definitely yes.

My career is starting to (finally) take shape and go in a direction I hoped for since day 1 of college. I have a wonderful, amazing, kind-hearted, selfless man by my side.  Best of all, we made another life together. Not just the life we are living, but that of another human being.

I get a little sad when I think about my 30 years on earth and the mere 7 months my son has had. He has no idea that anything bad could ever happen. He doesn’t know about death, getting hurt (physically and emotionally), or hardships. His biggest problem is not getting the bottle/boob in his mouth quick enough. He finds joy in such simple things: swinging, bouncing, daddy giving raspberries, our dog, a rubber giraffe. I love to just watch him take it all in and see the expressions on his face. I wish more than anything I could guarantee nothing bad will ever happen to him, but unfortunately, that’s just about impossible.

When I look back, there are a couple small things I might change, but none of them would have an effect on my life at this moment. I’d probably still be with my husband and child, and I would still be working (just maybe in a different line of work). Had we known the difficulty of being away from our family and having a new baby, we may not have moved quite so far away. We love where we are though, so who knows.

My hope for the next 30 years is that they go as smoothly as these first 30. I’m afraid I may see more death, more world problems, and possibly more money woes. But I will also see my son grow to be a man and possibly start a family of his own. I will see my husband grow old with me and we will take on life’s challenges together. We will have some surprises (good and bad), but I know God won’t give us anything we can’t handle. I’m looking forward to my 30s. Bring it on!

Pregnancy May Be Addicting…

It’s a funny thing about pregnancy and labor. When you’re going through it (at least for me) it wasn’t very fun, but then afterwards you miss it.

After I gave birth to my son, I was so relieved not to be pregnant anymore! I don’t miss the worry I felt the entire time–Is he ok? Is he going to have a birth defect? What if something goes wrong?–or the awful hip pain I had. But I do miss his little body moving around inside my belly, the excitement and anticipation of it all, and the miracle growing inside me.

What I miss most is the actual labor part. I won’t say labor was fun! But it was just such an unknown adventure and the anticipation leading up to FINALLY meeting my baby was just crazy.

And the pushing! Oh the pushing. Imagine being constipated/feeling like you have a piece of poop coming out of your butt that won’t move! Most. Uncomfortable. Feeling. Ever. But I miss it! I must be nuts. I seriously felt like a rock star after giving birth. I’m still so proud and glad that my body did everything it was supposed to do, and that I was able to deliver my baby without having a C-section (he was kind of a big boy, so they kept saying it might come to that!).

Now I might be a little obsessed with my pregnant friends and labor. Every time someone goes into labor it brings me back to when I was in labor myself, and I just know what they must be going through and how amazing it can be.

When we left the hospital I said I wasn’t going to be back for a lonnnnnnnng time, but now I think I want to have another very soon! It won’t happen though, as my husband and I have a plan for when we want to try again, but I look forward to when it does. If it does. I hope it does. I am grateful that it has happened once, if it turns out to be my only time. ❤


love being preggo