Looking Up

Today is one of those days where I feel it is necessary to preface that I love my children because I'm going to be honest. 

I know there are stronger women than I out there.

But there are days I. just. can't.

The desire to run away is strong. 

I feel like I'm drowning. 

There is a permanent lump in my throat. Tears are bound to flow at a moments notice. 

I cry out for Jesus to just help me. Hold me. I feel weak, impotent, spent. 

I don't want to hear the whines, screams or crying. I don't want to be touched, pulled, kicked or peed on. 

Laundry mounts, sinks are full and everywhere I turn are goldfish crumbs. 

You've seen those hallmark movies or read the books, right? Where the mother flees the scene? We gasp and say we could never. 

I empathize. I feel that mother, because today? I. just.can't. 

My precious husband knows. He hands me the keys as I peel out of the driveway. He offers me a hotel room away, the bed to myself.. so I can recoup. So I can just think. Pray. Reflect without the noise.

Mamas. I feel you. Take a moment.

Look up. He's got you. 

Operation: Take bed back

August has been filled with lots of house changes and switcharoos. This makes my heart happy as I have a hard time with anything being in one place for too long. While I'm sure this speaks to bigger issues..we'll delve into that at a later time.
We moved Wyatt's bedroom downstairs despite my hesitations and Will's reassurances. Alex shifted over to Wyatt's bedroom and we've made Alex's room into a home office for Will and I.
I say Alex's "bedroom"loosely as he's been sleeping with us since the day he came into our lives 2 1/2 years ago. The night terrors have lessened but are no less painful to hear. The thrashing has subsided slightly, yet the kicks to the gut, head and privates are stronger and incredibly unfortunate in the middle of REM sleep. The pediatrician said about 8 months ago that Alex should transition to his own bed. Um. Sure. While I respect his opinion, I just wasn't ready to listen.
Now 8 months later, here I am. It's time. My problem is, it's so different then with Wyatt.  I'd let him cry for a bit and he was able to self soothe and go back to bed. But Alex...his cries pierce this adoptive mamma's heart. I missed the first year and a half with our boy. Who was lifting him from his crib or stroking his cheek during those early stages? All I know is,  it wasn't me...which leads me to this place...feeling conflicted.
So we've found a happy medium. I hope.
If you can believe this; Wyatt's old convertible crib is now Alex's and we have "converted" it into a full size bed. Which means we can ALL have our own space and hopefully get through REM uninterrupted without drop kicks to the groin. If he needs us, there is plenty of room to cuddle with him in his bed, while still preserving ours.
Again, only one night down *successfully* with lots of prayer, lavender and frankincense being diffused. I'll keep everyone posted, as I wouldn't want anyone out there to lose sleep over MY sleep.
On that note...g'nite.
And Just out of curiosity....which position have you found yourself in? We're in Roundhouse Kick Hell.

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