Friday, October 10, 2014
As I sit on the floor outside her bedroom, the only sound is my fingers clicking the keyboard and her breaths-ragged and short.
I hate this time of year.
Because every year about this time my allergy-prone child gets some sort of respiratory virus that is accompanied by one of those terrible sounding coughs that racks her tiny body every 2.5 seconds and leaves she and I both completely exhausted by the end of the day.
We battle this every single year, sometimes multiple times a year, and it never gets any easier.
In fact, over the last two years, I think it's only gotten harder.
Because it's in these moments when I'm tired and spent, and crying in the hallway outside her bedroom door wishing I could do more that I wonder, "What in the world am I doing here?"
You know, I read somewhere that no mother sets out with the goal to be a single mother.
I believe it.
Because if you would of told my young, beautiful, 24 year old, new-mommy self that in three years I would become a single mom, I would of laughed at you.
Right to your face.
Yes, while it's true that this was my choice, trust me, it wasn't my first choice.
I had every intention of raising my daughter in house with a mom and a dad and maybe a sister or two. There was a plan and I had never even considered another option.
We were going to be happy and healthy and whole.
Because that's what my church had promised and all the fairy tales had said.
But, that isn't how it happened is it?
That certainly isn't where the road lead.
And while I don't regret my present life and all it has taught me for a single second, I would be lying if I said that this life-this single mommahood-isn't hard.
Because it is.
It's really hard.
It's hard when...
There's no one to hold you after a particularly rough mom day when you've completely lost it more than once and you put them to bed 30 minutes before bedtime just to save the last strand of your sanity.
There's no one to tell you that dinner was delicious even though your five year old gagged through every. single. bite.
There's no one to help negotiate with your aspiring fashionista or to help with homework, dishes, and night time routines.
There's no one to put your mind at ease about the things the teacher did or didn't say during the parent-teacher conference or to keep you from believing everything you read on Web MD.
There's no one to wipe away your frustrated tears or to take over so you can get some air, or some quiet time, or maybe just go to the bathroom in peace.
There's no one to share the midnight watch with you, or to wake you up and bring you to bed after you've fallen asleep on the floor holding their little, fever-warm hand.
There's no one here at the end of the day to remind you that you are enough.
It's just hard sometimes.
Which is why I'm pretty sure no mom sets out with the intention to do any of these things alone.
But you know what, a lot of us do: whether we chose to do it on our own or life chose it for us.
We still do it.
Every single day.
All by ourselves.
And even though tonight I'm lonely and exhausted, I wouldn't change a single baby step that has brought me here.
This life is molding me into the type of woman I want my daughter to admire: strong, independent, grounded. A woman who fights for herself. This life is preparing me for bigger and better things, even if tonight it doesn't really feel like it.
Because tonight, I wish there was a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, and whisper to remind me that every little thing is going to be alright.
And that this too shall pass.