Tuesday, January 14, 2014


Being a stay at home mom is the hardest job ever.  I have complete new respect for my mom who stayed home with all of us throughout our childhood.  I am realizing how many more times I should have said "Thank you" or let her know I appreciate her and all her sacrifices.

Some days are wonderful and I am in awe of God's goodness and mercy, particularly with all he brought the boys thru in their short lives.  I am so grateful that they survived despite the odds and are active and energetic little boys.  I love that.  I love seeing their smiles, hearing their laughs, watching them learn the little tasks, playing with them, and seeing them grow stronger.  It is really an amazing thing to be there and see the day to day of any child, especially preemies.  But then there are days like today.

Today consisted of feeding, screaming, feeding, errand, feeding, screaming, feeding, screaming, baths, feeding, and screaming.  All day long.  No laughs, no smiles, no special little moments.  It didn't matter what I did - held Warren, rocked him, sang to him, read him a story, walked with him, bounced him, etc.  Nothing mattered.  He just screamed and screamed, swatting his arms and slapping me in the face over and over again.  It is the most frustrating thing in the world, to love a child who seems to hate being with you.  To have a child so incredibly unhappy and not be able to console him.  And we typically have 1 or 2 play times like this a day, and I say the next one will be better.  Today...it never got better. and Andrew had to work super late.  I am trying to transition Dean to his back for sleeping, so he screamed through nap times today too.  I am let feeling completely exhausted nearly 14 hours after the day started with Warren still screaming away in the next room.  With the few moments I had when they were both relatively calm I managed to grab a meal and clean a bathroom.  That's it.  Today, I am mourning the life I once had.  The job I once enjoyed.  The people I once interacted with.  I miss feeling like a productive member of society, stopping by the store on my way home, grabbing coffee with a friend, and reading a good book.  Tomorrow is another day, one which will hopefully and prayerfully involve less screaming and hitting from one little boy.  As I quit writing to go tend to him again, I find myself sighing and feeling utterly conflicted.  The blessings I prayed for consistently for so many years and finally here, home with me as I always dreamed.  And yet, it is so much harder than I thought.  And no matter how hard I work, I feel completely unappreciated by my boys...especially when they don't respond to my efforts.  Or when they respond quicker to Andrew.  Like all my efforts are useless.  I know one day it will get better.  And I have to keep reminding myself that they are essentially 3-month-olds.  Still in that hard stage...

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