As I sat watching my baby boy with his blonde hair and his bouncing curls, he turned to look at me and lifted his little hand to wave at me. His big blue eyes were so innocent and sweet looking at me as he waved, and then he turned around to keep playing with his toys. I couldn’t help but think to myself, “these are the days.”
Motherhood is a rollercoaster that includes the lows of complete and utter exhaustion, and the highs of the pure joy that you feel when your baby boy turns to wave at you as he plays happily without a care. This thought made me smile because just a week prior, I thought I was going to die. Cause of death: motherhood. Having two babies with the flu and a cold at the exact same time pushed me to my limits. No, it actually pushed me past the limits I thought I had and to limits that I didn’t even know where there. I didn’t know what exhausted meant until then, I don’t think. I had two babies that needed me, and still only 2 arms. I had two babies that needed me, and still had to eat. I had two babies that needed for every second, and I still needed to use the restroom. Every move I made that wasn’t holding them made them very upset. So with the highs and lows, what days are these really?
These are the days of feeling completely inadequate when both babies need me at the same time, and perhaps sometimes feeling guilty that I choose to put in two embryos during our third round of IVF. Is it fair to them? These are the days of feeling like I did something very, very right when I see them playing with each other and laughing at each other. I gave them their greatest gifts: each other.
These are the days of feeling more exhausted than I ever even knew was possible. Exhausted to my bones, in my brain, to my core. The days of thinking when I wake up in the morning that surely I’ll be able to preserve my energy long enough to put the babies to bed at night, then feeling like I’m about to collapse at 7 pm with still an hour to go. These are the days of feeling more joyful energy than I knew was possible when I hear Harris do his low-pitched, “he he” little giggle, or when Goldie gets SO excited over something like seeing a dog, or the oven lights on, that her whole body shakes.
These are the days of growth and learning, of me being the mom and sitting down and wondering how life has happened this fast. These are the days of rememering that I need to appreciate it all because I will blink, and it will be over.
These are the days of picking up my little boy, laying his blanket on my shoulder, and feeling his precious and growing but still small body snuggle into his mama with his blonde head on my shoulder. These are the days that I rock my baby girl in her rocking chair, the days when she is immediately calmed when I hold her. These are the days of being everything that they need to make them feel safe, and loved and happy. These are the days that won’t last long.
These are the days of gummy smiles, of chubby cheeks that my face melts into as I kiss them a hundred times, of sweet little feet that like it when I put their shoes on. These are the days of throwing food off of high chairs onto just-cleaned floors, of digging through dresser drawers, of Goldie’s high pitched and excited laugh as she tries to crawl to her brother.
These are the days of laughing at each other in their cribs when they are supposed to be sleeping. They are doing that right now as I type this. These are the days that I’m so glad they have each other.
These are hard days, these are easy days, these are joy-filled days, these are tear-filled days, these are days with laughter, these are days with love.
These are the days that I will hold close to my heart, today and in all the days to come.