Intersections

I just posted this picture on Facebook

 With this caption:  Here we are at the intersection of "I can't hold my legs like this any more" and "when I try to move this baby he will wake up and cry to be nursed like he has been doing constantly all day long."

The truth is that I'm at more than one such intersection at the same time.  They include:

• I love this precious human being so much AND What on earth made me think I could do this again - while also taking care of my first child?
• If I just focus in what I have to do at this exact moment I will make it through this AND This is going to go on forever and I will never get any relief (or sleep) and I'm going to lose my mind!
• I'm so glad I have friends and family who are so loving and helpful and a husband who is so involved AND How can this be so unbelievably hard? 

The "What was I thinking?" one is haunting me a little right about now.  I had not forgotten how hard things were right after Liam was born when we decided to have another baby.  And it wasn't an "oops!" or a surprise.  It really wasn't my fault, though.  My brother and sister-in-law had a baby.  She was born six weeks early and when she was about three weeks old I went to visit them.  I went to the quiet premie ward and held that sleeping baby.  I slipped her under my shirt so she could have some skin-to-skin "kangaroo care" and rocked her.  And when it was time to give her back I slipped her out and she pooped a blowout poop that left unstinky yellow baby poop on my shorts.

(Here she is at six months.  Who could resist?)

And see, the seed was planted.  The little thought of "what if I never do this again with a baby of my own?"  The knowledge that we could bring another amazing human into the world, and love him or her, watch the learning and the growing, laugh and cry and be consumed by the reality and drama of life.  We could do it again.  But TICK TICK TICK said my internal clock.  Not for long.  "Don't over think it or you'll get scared and back off," said some part of me that skulked around a corner every time I tried to confront it.

"I learned so much the first time" I thought.  "It seems like a shame to just do it once."  But now I feel just as lost and ineffective as I did with Liam.  Why won't this baby sleep for more than an hour and a half at a stretch?  Why does he wake up crying like he's in pain?  How can I get myself to eat when my appetite is gone?  How will I be able to take care of my family if I can't take care of myself?  Why am I wasting precious hydration and time when I could be sleeping by crying?

Of course that same little voice that pushed me in this direction to begin with is in there somewhere reminding me that I made it through this hard time once.  It's telling me that so many wonderful moments have come my way that never would have if I hadn't taken the chance.  It's saying that the six or seven kisses that Liam showered on the now actually sleeping Devin before his bedtime have to count for something.

We'll see.  I'll have to get back to you on that one when I've actually gotten a little sleep.  Preferably a full two or even three hours at one time.