Sometimes, I wish I could just rewind and go back to being pregnant. I miss the anticipation of motherhood. I miss my misguided idea of what it would be like.
I can’t believe I’m saying that I’d like to be pregnant again because we all know that I was not pregnancy’s biggest fan, but man… those were simpler days. When I think back to my last 10 weeks or so, it feels more like a warm blanket. I wish I had appreciated those days more because these days just feel like a cold bucket of ice water.
Don’t get me wrong. I love our baby. I love her more than I ever believed it was possible to love another human being. She fills a space in my soul that I didn’t even know was there. When she is happy and cuddled up against me, I feel like the best version of myself. I was meant to be her mother and she was meant to be my baby.
But motherhood? It’s hard. It’s making marriage hard, too. Hell, it’s making life hard. I’m a terrible employee. I’m a terrible mom to our dogs. I’m a terrible wife. I’m a horrible homeowner. All so I can be a mom who is barely getting by on a wing and a prayer.
I’m grateful that Charlotte won’t remember these days. I’m grateful that she won’t remember the night that I lost my cool when she started to cry as I was trying for the millionth time to put her down to sleep. I’m grateful she won’t remember me sobbing in the car on the way to Christmas Eve dinner. I’m grateful that the pictures from her first Christmas show a normal happy family instead of overtired, stressed moms who are walking on eggshells and a baby who is teething and refuses to sleep.
I’m glad that I couldn’t imagine this. I wouldn’t have wanted it if I could have imagined what it would really be like, and I would have missed out on the most amazing thing ever just to avoid some hard times.