Sitting in the wheelchair waiting for my chariot, I realized this is it. This is my life. Um…duh. For years now, really my whole life, everything has been in a state of change. As a child, I went to grammar school for three years then middle school for three years then junior high school for three years onto high school for four years and then college for four years. I was out of college two years and I got married. Then I was married three years and had baby number one. Etc. etc.
My life, my family, has been created. So when my swagger mobile pulled up carrying two rambunctious children and my husband, I placed my new baby’s car seat in his newly assigned seat and sighed. This is it. This is my life. And somehow even though I am conscious of it, the enormity of having our family completed with the arrival of Noah seems too much for me really to grasp.
The day before I went into labor, I blogged How are you? Ironically that seems to be a hot question these days too. How am I? It really depends on the second you ask me.
I have spent some serious days in at utter state of euphoria. I have such an amazing family. My heart, my life, is so complete with the addition of Noah, I’m so grateful for the kids we have, and the family that they will all grow up in. I’m so lucky to have such a patient, helpful husband to go through this by my side.
Now here comes the dirt of the story, I have also spent some days thinking how I am going to survive the next couple of years. I am completely beyond sleep deprived. In addition to normal newborn up all night business, I have had a series of different infections that have landed me in the ER until the wee hours of the am. My kids are stir crazy from being in the house too much. My patience is being tried on a daily basis in a way that even the most patient people (which I am absolutely not amongst) would struggle.
And here comes the takeaway. This five person family has existed in a vacuum of Dad being home 24/7, no schedule and a baby that has minimal needs (diaper change, feeding, being held, etc.). For better or worse, this is my life. I will never bring a new baby home from the hospital. We have our assigned seats in the car and we will learn how to ride in that formation eventually.
I may be bald by the time we get into a rhythm (from pulling out all my hair) but I will be among my family that will someday grow up and out of my house. (Kenahora knock on wood, some crazy Jewish superstition) So I’m going to give it everything I got to try and treasure any moment I can, even if it’s a very fleeting second. Because this is my life now. It’s the life I dreamt of. It’s the life I wished for. And I refuse to let my lack of patience and frustration with the mundane things take it away from me.