Like asking my sweet Labor and Delivery nurse about pooping during delivery. Although, the nature of her job being what it is, she probably wasn’t fazed.
I asked her, is it common? Bad for the baby? I’d never thought about it before, because with my first, I’d been in labor for 12 hours by the time it came to push. My curiosity was long dead by then.
But the second time around, I was ready to discuss such critical matters. The nurse said yes, pooping while pushing is quite common, but it’s not a super bad thing. Besides, out of the mess comes life; out comes something beautiful.
When it’s, you know, all cleaned up and stuff.
I thought about that experience several weeks later when I was sitting on the couch at 3:00am trying to lull Brielle back to sleep. Exhausted, close to tears, loving my baby yet hating her at the same time, then hating Heavenly Father because I knew it wasn’t her fault, then hating myself because I knew it wasn’t his fault either and this is just how babies are. I felt so helpless, like the biggest failure of all time.
For weeks now I have dreaded each night and entered each day as a sleep-deprived emotional wreck. Some days it feels like I’m moving through molasses. Since I can’t sleep when my body demands it, I end up on the couch vegetating and nursing all day long. Especially when Brielle doesn’t let me nap.
But on that particular night, I thought about the beauty in the mess. I was the embodiment of a mess: my emotions shattered, mind running on 10% power, body weak and depleted. Yet through it all is this thriving, beautiful little thing, who in just a short time will be as full of life as Ariana. Calling me mommy and finding joy in the most simplest things. Filling the room with the most precious smiles.
Every day I sacrifice, and through it all is a powerful love of family. My husband and I have grown closer even though his wife is a crazy crying bipolar monster. I view the time I spend with Ariana in a totally new light, loving her more and more each day. Most of all, when I stop and think about the miracle of motherhood, and my love for children--especially my children--I feel the overwhelming love of Heavenly Father.
No doubt about it: I struggle with babies. Kids not so much, but these demanding little ones, oh baby. (Haha.) Recognizing the beauty doesn’t make me any less sleep-deprived, or stop the tears, or give me more energy.
But somehow it gives me strength and love. It’s amazing how much strength and love can help during times of trial. I’m so grateful for my family: parents, siblings, in-laws, extended family, my husband and kids. So grateful too for all the wonderful friends who have offered their support while I make my way through this insane thing called motherhood.
Eventually the mess disappears, leaving only beauty and true joy.
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