I had hyperemesis gravidarum when I was pregnant with Eliot, which meant I sat on the couch. (Or lay on the bathroom floor, same thing. Except way colder, more humiliating, and with a better view of my unswept floors. I mean, my tile has lots of colors in it, so I always think it’s way cleaner than it is. Until I have my face pressed against it.)
After he was born I had postpartum depression and exhaustion from the hard pregnancy, which meant I sat on the couch. (Or lay in my bed which was way more comfortable, but with a toddler and baby pretty much ensured someone fell off the bed. Usually it wasn’t me.)
My postpartum depression is linked to breastfeeding, so I switched to formula when I felt my emotional state wasn’t sustainable, and I am starting to feel better. Now sometimes we go to the zoo in the mornings, or a friend’s house. If we go to the park I sit on the bench. But now that Eliot has started climbing and needed supervision on the equipment, we have mostly stopped going. If we do something in the morning then that’s all I have for the day. The rest is spent sitting on the couch and reading books, or sitting on the floor and playing trains, or sitting outside while they eat rocks. (Hey, not all options are good options.)
When I read articles from parents who are learning to slow down, who are championing for being present in the little moments, I am glad that someone is fighting that fight. Noticing and interacting are things that are often lost in a busy, always-gone life. People, little people in particular, can easily get lost in the desire to keep the house spotless or the need to get all the errands done.
But it’s not my life. I see almost everything, because I am always there. I am not going to appointments and I am DEFINITELY not cleaning. I see how they find every single piece of food on the floor, how they drive their trucks through the ring of water the glass left behind, and even how many times my toddler actually pushes my baby when he thinks I’m not looking. I see Eliot take ten minutes to suck on a pretzel until it’s soggy and falling apart.
I don’t get sucked into too many appointments because I can barely do one appointment. And if that one appointment is accompanied by having to actually carry on of the boys, or having to walk after I’ve had little sleep, than forget about it. Sometimes that appointment just doesn’t get done. We actually haven’t been to the grocery store in over 2 weeks, if you can believe that. Hooray for food in the freezer!
When the old lady in the store tells me ‘not to miss a second because it goes by so fast’, I can reply honestly that I am not.
Not.
One.
Single.
Second.
Some parents I know write books while they have young children. Some parents have the energy to work and still be present in their children’s lives. Some parents actually clean the house and make dinner.
I sit on the couch.
I have to believe that someday that will be worth something. That if I didn’t have these problems I might regret some choices I would make otherwise, and that I would have regretted not knowing the little, tiny things I know now, like how Lincoln stacks the rocks in the back of his fire truck but never in the back of his garbage truck.
But some days it’s hard. I feel left behind. Sometimes my biggest victory of the day is getting the 8 by 10 foot rug vacuumed. (I have a dog, so it gets really dirty. It makes me feel super accomplished. Don’t judge.) Feeling like the day was worthwhile because you vacuumed your rug is an extremely depressing place to be.
I’m starting consultations with a doctor to see if we can fix the exhaustion, and the fact that I made that appointment means that these days are probably coming to an end. Just having the energy to try and fix the problem of no energy means that something is changing.
So here’s to the parents who aren’t missing anything, whether they want it that way or not. Someday, I hope it’ll be worth it. I hope that there is an end in sight for you too, and that someday together we’ll say that this inactivity was one of the best things life ever forced us into.
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