Monday, December 14, 2009

It was like coming out of a dark cave...

When my son was born, I think I held him in my arms for his first two months of life. I held him, I rocked him, I slept with him on my chest, I carried him in a sling if I just had to do something that couldn't wait, and I was happy that way. I was completely head-over-heels in love with this little baby. I was in awe of his every move. I was simply just in love. But then when my baby was eighteen months old, I got pregnant again. It was at that moment that things started to change for little John and I. I was too tired to play all day long, or to read for hours. Too tired to carry him around for most of the day, even in a sling. Too tired to be patient. My pregnancy was successful and in nine months or so, I had a little girl. When she was born, things got even more complicated. I love my baby girl, even with all the craziness that inhibits her soul, God knows I love her. But things just got difficult.

Unfortunately, when she came into my life, I became a sad person. I know now that I was depressed. I refused to take medication, wasn't it bad (how ignorant I was)? I went to therapy and met an amazing psychologist. He helped me see what was going on and why I had no strength for my children, my precious, precious children. Why I was so irritated all the time, especially with my little John that as a two and a half year old needed so much patience. Patience I simply just did not have. I remember feeling so heartbroken when this was going on because I felt as if everything I had ever done with my little John had been a waste.

All the hugs.
All the kisses.
All the hours spent reading together.
All the hours I carried him in my arms.
All the hours we spent in my rocking chair.
All the nights spent hugging while my tiny baby nursed himself in and out of sleep, in my arms, in my bed.

All a waste. I was just this angry mom. This sad mom. This mom that nobody would have recognized just a few months before. I hated myself for feeling that way, yet I couldn't make it go away.

But one day, I bought a camera. I bought a camera and discovered that I loved photographing people and that I was good at it. Slowly but surely, my confidence started coming back. I felt good about myself again. I got to see my children through my lens and I was in love again. I was in love with my work. I was in love with my clients, I was in love with my children.

I fell in love with my children again.

I remember coming out of my depression and feeling like I was coming out of a dark cave, finally seeing the sunlight around the corner. I could see what I needed to do. I could see the changes that needed to be made. And I was going to try my hardest to mend the relationships between my children and I.

I think I was a tad bit successful at it. I finally, after a year, bonded with my little girl. I could hug her, and have it make my soul so happy. I could hold her and sing to her. I was in awe of her, just like I had been with her big brother. I was in love.

But things with little John have taken longer to mend. He is so smart, so outspoken. He is loud and happy. He is sad and whiny. He is so much like me. I find us knocking heads more than I'd like but I know some of it is normal. I mean, he's four years old, he's totally feeling out where his boundaries are. But I worry. I worry that lately my patience is short again. My irritation level seems too high, as of late. I'm sorry, little John.

This may just be a post, meaningless to whomever may read it. But really, this is for my son. My big, four year old son.

Please know that I try every day to make you happy. That the day you were born, I became a different person. That you showed me how to love unconditionally. I try hard every day to be kind to you. I try hard to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me. I hope you know that. I try to tell you every night, how much I love you, how much I adore you. I want you to know that I love everything about you. How you wear costumes all day, every day. How you tell knock-knock jokes to anyone that will listen. How you give me eskimo kisses just because. Please forgive me when I fail at being a patient mommy. It's my fault, it's never you. I love you, papa.
I love you to the moon and back.

1 comment:

  1. Bonnie,
    Your post touched me deeply...probably because I often feel the same and have gone through similar things. You are a beautiful person (inside & out) and a special mom...I know you're thinking "yeah right", but it's true. I'm sure your children wouldn't trade you for the world!!
    Love ya! Miss ya!