Out of the Fog

I'm finally crawling out of the haze that the end of 2017 sent my way. From a category 4 hurricane that threatened to pass directly over us to an early labor scare at 35 weeks to actually going into labor on my due date and all the joy/intensity of having a baby one week before the holiday season began...I stopped joking that time has lost all meaning because, well...it has lost all meaning.

Transitioning from one child to two has been interesting. I knew I loved J as explosively as I loved T from the moment I saw her. I expected the sleeplessness and am so grateful that, unlike last time, I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. One day I'll be well-rested and I'll miss being needed the way I am now. I expected the stress, feeling pulled in a million directions. I expected the house to get dirty, the laundry to pile up, the dishes to sit longer, the beds to go unmade for a few weeks as I found my way through the haze of sleep deprivation, hormonal shifts, and the physical recovery of giving birth to a human. 

I didn't expect the guilt. If T ever reads this blog one day, I hope she finds this post and knows that I ache for her, for the way her life was blown apart and hastily sewn back together with a new piece of our family taking over huge swaths of time that used to belong entirely to her. 

I knew things would change, priorities would shift, expectations wouldn't mirror reality, but I wasn't aware of how deeply I'd mourn the loss of only-childhood FOR her. Yet, here I am, neck-deep in the realest of Real Life, and I hate that nearly every request has to be answered with "in a moment," or "as soon as I'm done with this." It's painful.

I know it won't always be this way. I'm doing my best, despite the guilt, to hold tight to these days because they fly by. I know that this time. I'm always concerned that I'll miss something, that I won't document enough, that I'll forget a funny thing T says or a new milestone from J. Yet through it all, I'm filled with a gratitude and joy the depths of which I haven't plumbed. There is guilt, for sure, but there is also happiness I'd never anticipated. 

I'm stepping out of the fog, now. I don't feel overwhelmed as in past weeks. We're all shifting into the new normal and we've hit a reset button on our old life. It's astonishingly mundane. It's stunningly beautiful. It's absolutely perfect.


Lindsay Sweeting was in the world of Marketing and Publicity in her previous life. These days you're more likely to see her running after her toddler than running a meeting, but she does her best to find time to create new recipes, come up with fun activities for her daughter, and write about the craziness that is life in the Sweeting house.

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