Re-organizing Life

After a baby is born, normal life is thrown out the window. I've gotten to the point where I'm ok with this; I don't fight it and I try to embrace it. Around about 6 months, though, I get to the place where I'm ready for a little more structure to my days. Does that mean I get structure? Not necessarily. I still, after all, have a baby and babies don't fulfill high expectations.


But it's time for a little structure, and maybe a little independence. Not many people are like me, but I don't generally leave my babies until they are around 6 months. I might do some light errands, but at the most it's only for an hour. And it's only a handful of times in those six months. I breastfeed exclusively, and never use bottles, so I have to be available when the baby gets hungry. And I prefer it that way.

It's not that the baby starts eating solids at six months because we don't do that either. We'll start giving her some table food to play with in a couple of months. But around 6 months, I need to start doing some things other than feeding the babies. And this time around, it's been a little bit more because of Esmond still nursing too. (He's only 2 1/2 now. And boy, does he love nursing!)

After six months, I start to feel a little empty. And overwhelmed. I'm still processing all the feelings right now. It makes it hard for me to concentrate on what others are saying. I feel like I can't understand the words they are saying. I feel discombobulated. Calendars pose a formidable threat. I miss dates, and days, and it gets confusing. Things sneak up on me, and even pass me by without my noticing.

It's not a fun feeling.

So now I'm ready to start claiming some of my routine back. Some of my independence back. I need to run. I need to read. I need to speak, think, and do. I'm not going to feel this oppression anymore. I'm not going to let it hinder me. I'm not going to acknowledge it. It is not a part of me. It is not from God. It is not real. It isn't true. It has no bearing on how I spend my days, my hours, and my minutes. It is not the boss of me.

Excuse me. I'm going to go clean my house. And my van. Because I am free. I am and must act like it.

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