At 3:45 am.
Emotions run high in these wee morning hours when I have time to reflect on how tired I am and how imperfect and what needs to be done the next day. I've spent many a night searching Google for some indication of when my life will get better, when sleep will come, when freedom will return.
And for all that effort I've come up empty handed.
Sometimes I feel guilty complaining or even feeling the way I do. My son is so beautiful and his smiles and coos literally keep me going when I'm on edge.
But when my husband gets home and I really want to go out but he asks me what we will do with the baby and we end up staying at home watching two movies while my mother-in-law visits ...
Or when I buy that first post-partum dress three sizes bigger than I'm used to and then feel so depressed I eat two whole brownies ...
And when we make plans to see a Nats game with friends but then can't find a babysitter ...
I end up here. 3:45 am releasing one of the only ways I know how and hoping, trusting that my sanity is right around the corner after a good cry and at least two hours of continuous sleep (fingers crossed).
Sometimes motherhood feels incredibly lonely. Mostly now.
