Motherhood Is Not What I Expected

I feel like we have come a long way from the post I published when we brought Peyton home. That last post was our week 1 round-up and I had good intentions to do a weekly round-up. Really I did. I fail. However, I have several things I can say about the last three months. Being a mom is not at all what I expected. Being a mother is something I didn’t expect to struggle with.

I hope that is the feeling from all new moms though. I’m sure the next comments I make will have some people hate me because I voice my discontent. Rest assured, I love my baby girl and I would never trade her in for anything in this world. She really is the very air I breathe.

She is kicking my butt!

The sleepless nights, the long days at work, the double amounts of laundry with no washer or dryer in the apartment, the crying for no reason, the trial and error, the pumping breast milk and then not using it, the WIC journey, the FoodStamps rejection after two full trips to the office when they told me all I needed was a phone interview, and the endless amounts of throw up that I endure is just the tip of the iceberg.

This is what she looks like when she thinks 3AM is play time.

I don’t want anyone to think that I was naive when we decided to get pregnant. I knew that babies cried. I knew that babies puked. I knew that babies were difficult. I just didn’t expect to … not love every second of it. Let’s be realistic. There are moments when I want to pull my hair out. There are moments when I want to abandon my apartment for a week and leave my baby with someone else. There are moments when all I want to do is curl up in a ball on my bed and disappear.

But, for the most part, I just want to convince myself that I am NOT a terrible mother. Why would I feel that way? I can tell you why. I am impatient. I am irritable. I am annoyed. I am snappy. I am frustrated. I am exhausted. Basically, I am not super mom. I am not loving every minute of it.

BUT. I love my daughter. I am grateful for my daughter. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. She is my little joy and ball of sunshine. When I wake up to her in the morning, I may not want to get up that early, but her smile lights up my day. When I get home at night from work, I may be exhausted and I may not want to play, but how can I say no to her precious little giggle?

She is the child I dreamed about. She’s the child I imagined in my head when I was pregnant, hell, before I was pregnant. It took a lot out of me and Kim to get here, emotionally and physically. We are far from finished, we have 18 more years of this, and frankly, I feel like I love her more and more as each day goes by.

My love for my daughter has grown since this picture by leaps and bounds.

I may not feel like motherhood turned out the way that I envisioned, but whose ideal of perfect motherhood really does turn out? It doesn’t matter, I still love my daughter and I love having her. I don’t care for throw up and crying, but I love her and I will endure.

So in the meantime, I will wake up every hour on the hour in the middle of the night and cuddle … just to cuddle. Because she needs it and I enjoy that part of motherhood. Its the little things. Reading her a bedtime story, kissing her toes and watching her smile in her sleep that make up for all the stuff I am not so passionate about.

I may be overwhelmed, I may be exhausted, but I have more love than I can ever express overflowing for that tiny pint-sized little girl I call my daughter, Peyton Shea Fields.

❤ Take Care,
Rachael

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