It Starts With A Step

Standing in the middle of the room, the walls seem as though they’re closing in.
The door is cracked open, light gently peering in.  Not enough to cause the darkness to flee.  Only just enough to remind there is light on the other side.

It only takes a few short steps to get to the door.  To enter the hallway and be washed in that light.  And yet, we hesitate.

The raging emotions, terrifying us.  Anxiety taking our breath away.

What’s in the hallway?  Will it kill us?
Will it attack?  Will it hate us?

Alone we continue to suffocate in the darkness.

It drives us insane.  Wanting out, wanting to stay.  Wanting to be free, wanting to stay hidden in the darkness.
Will you choose Freedom?

It only takes a step.  One little step at a time to conquer the darkness.
Freedom begins when you let yourself move.  When you take that first step toward change.

My Life As A Human Spawn Point

Going back to Mommy Ramblings for a moment, the trip to Ohio wore me down.  Normal things, such as getting out of the car, eating, and sitting were uncomfortable.  Why is it when you’re pregnant, bloating is ten times worse?
Rest Areas are usually found every 76 miles, but sometimes that’s just not soon enough.
I remember being pregnant with Isaias on the road to Ohio, we always stopped three miles BEFORE every Rest Area.
This is the second time I’ve had to travel across the country pregnant, for a death in the family.   My doctor said I’m not allowed to have the baby this time, but considering I still have 16 weeks of pregnancy left, I don’t see that being a problem

Between trying to raise a toddler, spawning a baby, and being away from home I am worn out.  My poor son probably thinks I’m the Thing From The Black Lagoon first thing in the morning, what with having to give up coffee.  I sneak a cup in here or there, but honestly that’s probably doing more bad than good to my sanity.
Why is it that when we have children, we feel as though our sanity has disappeared?   I am a Stay-at-home mom which makes my loss of sanity that much worse, as I literally spend every waking hour – and more – with my child.  The husband is off and away for everything and anything while I am at home raising his family.  When God cursed Eve and said, “I will increase your pains in child bearing” what he meant was, “When you’re on your period, it will be hell.  When you’re pregnant, it will be hell.  When you’re giving birth, you’ll wish you were dead.  When you recover from birth, you’ll hate yourself.  When you raise your child, you will love your child, but Free Will means your kid is going to push every button in your emotional body, and it will be hell.  Then, you’ll get pregnant with the next one and the cycle will plunge you into insanity.”

…..so, maybe he didn’t mean that, but heaven and all its occupants know I’m not prepared to have two toddlers running around testing my patience every chance they get.
Did I mention I’m having a little girl?
I get the best of both worlds,  but I’m going to endure Night and Day difference the moment she develops her personality.  I look forward to having a baby again,  but then I remember they grow up.

When you’re pregnant,  you really have to pick your battles with your toddler wisely.  There isn’t enough of you to go around.  Literally.  Your body is growing another child, and it slowly suckles away your energy, your ability to move quickly,  your ability to think clearly, and your ability to keep your emotions balanced ((I don’t know, maybe that’s just me)).
I’m tired.  I’m worn out.  I’m just ready to have my body and it’s needs back.  I went from breastfeeding, back to pregnant with only a month in between.  ((My husband couldn’t handle the thought of the depravity of his wife on our Anniversary.   I said I didn’t want to get pregnant.   But men have this way of guilt tripping you for holding out on them during important days in your relationship.   An anniversary is a pretty big thing to have to skip out on, apparently…..  like he couldn’t have waited two more days…..))
The things that comfort and care for me are coffee, and the occasional Mikes Hard Lemonade, or red Moscato.
I also thoroughly enjoy rigorous exercise, yoga and pursuing a slim, toned figure.
Those are the things I do for me.  Things that I have to wait for again.
Why is it that the things we love most are the ones we have to give up so we can bring children into this world?
When do I get to be me again?
When can I look in the mirror and love how I look?  How I feel?

Am I the only one who feels like this?  Should I feel guilty for needing to do for me, when I have to look after everyone else?  Why must coffee be a “guilty pleasure”?  Or two glasses of wine on the occasional Saturday night dangerous?
This is the punishment we endure for nine months, when the hormones are raging, the toddler’s misbehaving,  and the husband won’t do his share to make things easier.
Somebody tell me it gets better.  Because right now, I don’t see it.  And I’ve still got 16 long weeks to go.