This is Homer. He is 9 months and 17 days old. He has become quite the handful. He crawls. He stands and walks along furniture. He has a shrill scream he loves to let loose several times a day. He rejects any form of “baby” food; only big people food for this little guy. He’s a flirt. He has 6 teeth, and he enjoys the feeling of his toothbrush on them. He sleeps with his bottom in the air. He wiggles something crazy when we try to change his diaper. He loves his 88 lb. dog, Lucy; he wants to climb on her and pet her all the time–she’s not having it. He can crawl out of his scooter. He can climb the sides of his Pack n Play and crib to the point I almost lose my mind. He planks when we try to put him in his carseat. Yesterday, he refused his bottle and sleeping; last night, his sleep strike continued–all night. He loves his “hot tub” aka the kitchen sink; he splashes and squeals as if he’s on a roller coaster. He makes The. Funniest. Faces. He loves to cuddle. He loves to touch our faces; sometimes, it’s more of a clawing than a touch. He has learned the art of the temper tantrum aka Momma manipulation. He has a love/hate relationship with our picture taking. He loves blueberries. What a joy it is to know all this, and more, about our rainbow boy!
Last night, when I couldn’t sleep because he didn’t sleep, I felt frustrated and tired–two of the feelings that have made me feel guilty during my time of mothering Homer. But, I wanted to come clean and release that guilt by saying it here, to you, fellow loss momma: sometimes I feel frustrated and tired. As those feelings became stronger during the night, I made the effort to say aloud a few times, “I am grateful to be frustrated. I am grateful to be tired.” Quickly, my frustration and weariness became less of a big deal. I held Homie closer, cooing to him and rocking him in hopes he would be comforted. He settled down quite a bit, which made the remainder of the night much easier.
If you’re anything like me, you, too, may have felt twinges of guilt for feeling frustrated or tired while raising your rainbow. I guess I thought I was not allowed to have these feelings after all I’ve been through in losing Rowan. What would other people say if they knew I felt frustrated or tired? Well, hopefully, they would say I am a “normal” mom. Our experience in losing a child (or children) does not make us immune to the reality that frustration and weariness will make its way into our lives. Perhaps it does mean we will work through it differently, and find a way to be grateful that we are experiencing the range of emotions motherhood brings–the good and the not-so-good ones both.
What are your experiences or feelings about frustration and tiredness while raising your rainbow? How do you deal with these facts of motherhood in your own life? I’d love for you to share your insights!