Please Come Home

I am greatly looking forward to Brian returning tonight. I don't even care when he gets home - just that he is at home. This is one of those days when I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. If I lose my footing and fall down the cliffside, I may never be able to get out of. I'm exhausted. I'm alone. Lately the kids have been pushing all my buttons. The headaches increase in pressure and pain as they race through the house with their play stroller and shopping card - wheels clattering over the boards of the hardwood floor. It doesn't help that both kids had issues earlier in the week which caused immense amounts of crying (Brandon was sick, and Caitlin was constipated). I cherish silence, but kids are not quiet. These days I would settle for a mere "not so loud".

I miss having Brian around for many reasons. Even when I have been surrounded by a huge support network, and had a life, I would feel very alone when he was gone. I missed having someone to talk to, someone to see. He's always traveled, ever since I met him, and I use to enjoy that time away. It was my time alone, when I could do what I wanted when I wanted. There was no one who was waiting for me at home. Then Brandon came along, and it all got more difficult. I was lost in my baby, nursing, diapering world, and I was very much alone. I had friends, but most of them worked, and I wasn't close to the ones who had kids. My days were very much the same, which can drive you insane in a very short period of time. It wasn't the joy of structure, it was the dullness of stagnation. I began to reach out, and joined a mom's group when Brandon was just a few months old. I went to playgroup with friends, even though Brandon was too young to play. And after about 6 months, I fell into an easy rhythm with Brandon. Brian's trips weren't as bad.

Then Caitlin came. Her infancy was much harder on me. While I knew what to do baby wise, the rest of life got harder. I was achy, exhausted, and felt like like it took all my energy to rise out of bed in the morning. Caitlin wasn't a great nurser, which left me sore and exhausted from all the effort it took to get food down her mouth. My patience with just about everything was gone. I kept thinking that if I could just get a good night's sleep, it would all be okay. But I couldn't sleep. I was awakened by the baby, by Brian's snoring, by my own thoughts. Each day was joyless. I was quietly scared that I might never be myself again. For the most part, I didn't tell anyone, and I really didn't think anyone cared. Each day went on forever, and I thought that having a second baby was a huge mistake. 6 or 7 months down the line, after a conversation with a friend, I finally called the doctor. After a diagnosis of postpartum depression and a prescription, things got a little better. Things that never occurred to me were part of PPD were gone. Moving to Colorado didn't really help all of this. I sometimes wonder if I thought this would be a good idea because nothing seemed good in California during that year. I do have the kind of brain that thinks running away will make things better, but change doesn't change who you essentially are. And here I am - still me - in a different state. Alone with kids.

It bothers me immensely that I can't seem to get this mothering thing down. That I feel like I should stay home with my kids, but some days it drives me batty. Weeks can seem endless and joyless when I have no support. Any goals or ideas for my life that I might have tinkered with would be so hard to pull off living life like this. But mostly, I miss having my life partner around. Trips are getting much longer, and more frequent. When business trips come up, they seem to come in waves - meaning Brian might be home for a month or two, and then gone for what seems like month at a time. Home long enough to dump dirty laundry, and then leave a few days later. I do get tired of it. Work already gets the better part of his day. Now it gets his nights and the occasional weekend, too.