He's almost 6 months old. This coming wednesday, half a year ago, I birthed this little fella in our bedroom. It's been tough, tough! Raising a baby is the hardest thing I've ever done, and most of the time I'm staying just one step ahead. There are also lots of times when I'm not, but it always comes back around to things being all right ~ to getting help or relief at the last moment. And sometimes after the last moment.
I used to wonder what people meant when they talked about how hard it is. It is like something enveloping has seeped into my body and my mind and they are no longer mine. Life has gained a few layers so things overlap and the weave is a bit thicker and more complicated. I need both to kiss his soft neck like warm rising dough and hug his strong little body forever just as much as I need to cry sometimes because I'm FRIED but at that moment there is no one but me to watch him.
I've been thinking a lot about something. If I don't make room to rest and reinvigorate myself, if I don't know when to take a break ~ how will he learn to? How will he know when enough is enough if he's around someone often pushing herself far past her limits? How is he going to know to respect his needs if I don't respect mine. If I don't cherish myself.
It's so hard to do. It's so much easier to continue with the way things are. It's much more difficult to make changes, even for the better.