Today I felt like I failed.
We bought L a toddler bed and put it in her room yesterday. She loved it, and being brave, wanted to nap in it, but felt afraid. Confused. Overwhelmed. And at 19 months, has no idea how to convey those sentiments to me, unfortunately. But I felt it in my bones. Something was making her needy for me, and this wasn't something she felt very often, the tough cookie that she is.
Yesterday was the first nap in the bed, and through her tears and anger, she fell asleep in it, with me sitting next to her, stroking her hair.
Today was different. Today was a day that I couldn't sit with her for very long because the Boy needed a feed, and she didn't want him in her room with me and her on the bed, she wanted me all to herself. She yells "Mama! ME. ME. ME." and pulls me to her closely, as if to say "I need you now. It's ME time. MY time. You are MINE."
I sat with her and watched her drift off, and then the Boy let out a cry in the other room, and her eyes snapped open. I told her that I would have to tend to him but come back to her.
She took this as me abandoning her. Leaving her.
As I was feeding her brother, all I heard was gutteral screeching and yelling and crying, yelling "Mama! Maaaamaa!!" desperately. I heard pounding on the walls, I heard the throwing of books, I heard her angry wails, waiting for me to come back to her.
It was the most heartbreaking moment I've ever had as a parent, and after I put the baby down after his feed, I had to stand in the living room to regroup. And as I did so, my heart felt broken. I felt broken. I started to sob. I sobbed because I love them both so very much and felt torn in two. I sobbed because I feel bad that my little girl has to adjust to having another member in the family. I sobbed that I couldn't run to her at every "Mama" that exploded out of her lungs. I sobbed because I felt like I failed as a mother because I couldn't prevent my child from feeling hurt or neglected or abandoned.
I realise, in that rational part of my brain, that my children will always know how monumental my love and pride is for them, but today was a day where I felt confused, lost and helpless to doing what I wanted for them, but ultimately couldn't be torn in half to accomplish what I wanted to.
Some days will be better than others. Today I felt my little girl's hurt, and my throat burns with how profoundly sad I was that I couldn't help her in that moment.
Sure, it's "just a bed" to anyone else, but I don't ever want them to think that when it comes to them, I would view anything as "just". Everything is important. Their world is important. L's world at the moment is in a time of transition, of change. She's learning things before she's ready for them, sometimes.
Today she didn't nap. She needed me to hold her, walk with her, read books with her.
Tomorrow's a new day. I'll leave today in my memory as a lesson in loving, a lesson that my children have taught me about patience, and how the heart, just like any muscle, constantly works itself to its potential to get stronger, and add more layers to be able to love more efficiently.
2 comments:
Oh my gosh, that must have been so hard. I forget that L is younger then the munchkin and I know how hard it would be for her to handle the same situation. There really is nothing you can do in those situations and luckily, as you know, they will know how much you love them and how important they are to you. You really are doing the best you can and that is all you can do. Hugs.
Between the giggles, memories and cuddles, we mamas build a whole lot of scar tissue. A saving grace is that so very little of what we mark down in the fail category is ever remembered by them.
Hugs.
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