“I’m fantasising about just walking out the door and leaving them to fend for themselves.” My SOS text went out to my closest friends, the ones I knew would not take me literally and yet would know how completely overwhelmed and spent I felt.
My phone was pinging back in minutes. Notes of empathy and understanding, humorous stories of their own motherhood-nightmares, quotes and verses to encourage me.
We women are quick to talk about how mean and competitive we become as mothers but I have been overwhelmed by the opposite, by our camaraderie in a hard season.
My first evening alone with my two children involved me sitting on the landing floor, holding the screaming two-week-old baby in my arms while the toddler sobbed equally enthusiastically on the floor in front of me. I believe I might have offered her the wrong colour toothbrush. Who knows why he was crying? I thought about joining in (I frequently do) but this time I just leant back against the wall and tried to breathe for a moment with them wailing around me.
I’m not one of those women who enjoys the newborn phase. I didn’t with my firstborn, but then those months also included a healthy amount of Netflix binging while she fed, and summer strolls to get ice cream when I got bored with the monotony of it all. This time—my son is just eight weeks old now—I am trying to survive the same hard early months but with a lively and emotional toddler to keep healthy and happy at the same time. It seems like an impossible task most days.
I’m back writing at She Loves again this month, after a short baby break. Click over there to read the rest of my post, about what sisterhood has looked like for me in this crazy newborn + toddler season of life (it gets more positive, I promise!)