Mother Theresa? I Think Not.

I get incredibly frustrated these days.  Really frustrated.  To the point of tears.  I returned to work two weeks ago.  I knew it was going to be hard.  I just didn't realize how hard.  I feel like I run, non-stop, from 5:00 in the morning until 10:00 at night, and then an extra hour or so at night feeding Lilly.  My day consists of an alarm going off at 5:00, working out, feeding the dogs, showering, feeding Lilly and Olivia, and sometimes dressing them, before the nanny shows up at 8, at which point I shove an egg with cheese on a tortilla down my throat and run out the door.  Then it is off to work from 8 to 5, where I avoid a lunch break because I will never make my billable hour requirement if I don't.  I leave work shortly before 5 so I can fight traffic to make it home by 5:30.  When I hit the door at 5:30, I hit the ground running - we have dinner, baths, therapy, etc.  Then, if I am lucky to get the girls to bed by 8:30, I still have bottles to wash and make, bills to pay, dogs to feed, a budget to balance - you name it.  By 10:00, I am dead on my feet.

I knew having two kids would be much harder than having one.  I knew it would be difficult.  I knew it would be particularly difficult doing it by myself while Jeremy traveled.  But you can know something will be difficult and not really *know* how difficult it will be.  Add the stress of my job and Lilly's diagnosis, and you certainly have a recipe for disaster.  I won't lie - there are nights where I can barely hold back tears.  Nights where I snap at Olivia for no good reason at all.  Nights where I cry myself to sleep from sheer exhaustion.  Nights where I want to just walk out the door and let someone else, anyone else, deal with it.

I get particularly frustrated because I feel like I am losing valuable bonding time with Lilly during a time in her life that I know, without a doubt since she is my second child, that is so fleeting.  My maternity leave was not what I had hoped it would be.  With Lilly's diagnosis, I felt robbed of much of my bonding time with my baby.  Now that I am back at work, I feel even more robbed of my time with her.  We are still working through her reflux and malabsorption issues.  I document every day - her feeding, potty, and sleep schedule.  But I have to rely so heavily on my nanny for how she is progressing from day to day.  It, in a word, sucks.  At night, I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to juggle both girls and just fit in the basics - feeding, therapy, bath, bedtime.  I never get time to just cuddle with Lilly.  I remember when Olivia was a baby I would rock her to sleep every night.  I would sing her lullabies and just hold her.  It was our time together, a time to refocus after a busy day on what truly mattered.  With Lilly, I do my best to juggle her while she screams from her bellyaches and read Olivia a book (to Olivia's credit, while she doesn't understand Mommy's need to take care of Lilly without her interference, she does sit quietly and rarely complains about Lilly's fussing while we read).  There is just no time for me and Lilly and I hate it.

Not only do I never have time to just cuddle with Lilly, but my time with Olivia is often strained as well. Since she is older and more demanding on her wants/needs, I do manage to spend some time with her - at least we can talk over dinner and I still read her books.  But one on one time is few and far between these days.

When Jeremy is home, things are not as difficult.  Two parents + two kids = a formula that works well.  But that isn't always an option and when it isn't an option, I struggle.  I often ask myself - when do I get to spend time just enjoying my baby?  That usually raises questions of when do I get to spend some time with my husband?  What about Olivia?  Oh, and last, but certainly not least, when do I get some time for myself?  I just can't do it all.  A friend told me that I will always feel like I am falling short, but I am not.  I know she is right, but it certainly feels like I can't do anything right these days and everything is falling short.

A lot of people have complimented me with how I am dealing with everything that has come our way in the past 3 months.  About my "strength" and my "courage."  About how well I am coping.  I have a secret to tell you - you are fooled.  I am not strong, I am not courageous, and I am not coping very well.  I am a big fat fraud and I feel so guilty about it.  But that same friend who told me that I am not falling short also said something else that stuck with me.  She said that when it comes to dealing with the challenges of raising children, particularly a child with special needs, on top of a demanding career, regardless of the challenges that you have to learn to navigate from day to day, you just keep grinding it out "not because you are God's chosen one or because you are some Mother Theresa.  You do it because you love your kid and there isn't anything else that you can do.  And that is all that is required.''  It is for that reason that when I feel that urge to walk out the door, scream, and cry, I take a deep breath and grind it out another day.