Dec 7, 2016 | Nina
It’s hard. I mean, it is so hard. It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. I’m constantly caught between the beauty and deep joy; the feeling that there’s nowhere else I could ever want to be and the gut-wrenching, claustrophobic questioning of how I could possibly go on another second.
I really did think I knew how it was going to be. I always wanted a big family, I loved children and worked as a carer so I knew how to be patient and keep calm in moments that could be stressful. Like most of us, I had ideas about what I would and wouldn’t do with my children, but overall I just assumed I would ace being a mum and although I’d sacrifice a bit of sleep here and there, my days would be filled with cuddles and playing!
It was 8.30pm and I was starting to feel sick again. My husband Jon loves to cook and we’ve always eaten amazing food. Dinner that night had been wonderful and I was so happy that I'd managed to keep it down (whoever called it morning sickness had clearly never been pregnant). We went to our room to get ready for bed and the feeling was coming. I was twelve weeks pregnant and after almost two months of vomiting everyday, I was done. As I lay on the bed I declared,
“Nope. I’m just not doing it anymore. No more Jon, no more vomiting.”
I tried to control my breathing and keep it at bay; I was determined. That’s when the volcano erupted, I watched it go up above me and fall down on my face, in my hair – everywhere. I tried to shout for Jon but he couldn’t hear me from the bathroom. I had no choice but to crawl like a wounded animal, in to my husband who very kindly helped me into the shower and cleaned up the volcano aftermath. Pregnancy had defeated me.
Since my first son Micah was born these experiences have kept coming in their various forms, showing me that motherhood is not at all like what I had imagined. Whether it was the pain of breastfeeding, finding out I was pregnant again when Micah was just seven months old or having my second son, Caleb, arrive at 33 weeks gestation. Then there were the eating problems we have had since Micah turned one, the struggle with discipline, and sensitivities and personality making things complex. I have been undone and turned inside out.
The first three years of my motherhood journey were a sort of black hole and definitely a blur. The last year I have felt that I am starting to move and grow more harmoniously with my boys and we work together (sort of) to find a rhythm that suits us more. The struggle is still daily and I get caught in the trenches at times, thinking maybe I should just set up camp there but I have always made it out again somehow. I have found a lot of solace in the blogging world and in moments of rare peace, like a nap that went longer than I thought or a toddler being engrossed in his game, I have found myself desperately reading and searching for an idea, an encouragement, something that tells me I can do this.
I look forward to sharing my journey with you in the hopes that I can reflect the colourfulness of these crazy days of motherhood. Having a family has taught me so much about life and value. There are lessons to be learnt in almost all moments of our days with these little ones but sometimes; sometimes it is just hard. Sometimes we just have to make it through the day. I hope this will be a place that you can find strength for this adventure.