Reality

I don't know about you, but I read a lot of "mommy blogs." Sometimes in our exuberance to present motherhood as "The. Best. Thing. Ever. I love it I love it I love it," we neglect to present that dark side, the "I am the worst at this ever" side and the "I really want to quit but it is too late for that" side. For me, at least, it is hard to publicly acknowledge these parts of motherhood because it is basically letting the world know how bad I fail at my job some days.

So there you go. Sometimes I fail my job. Sometimes I fail to love my job, which is probably even worse than not "being a good mom." But it happens, people.

Thus is the life of a mother.

I have a sneaky suspicion that if you (if you are a mom) disagree with me and have loved motherhood every day of your life, chances are you are probably not as good at mothering as you thought.

(That is what I tell myself, anyway.)

(It makes me feel better.)

(I do denial really well.)

This is the part where I get into the TMI for the week, simply because I want a minute of the wambulance's pity (skip this paragraph if you don't want to know how terrible-wonderful my life is). My week this far has consisted of four visits to Doctor's offices. Two ultrasounds and one cervical check (think of those awkward ultrasounds they do when you are 7-9 weeks along and they can't get anything on your stomach- yeah, my third one of these in four weeks). I've been told I need to watch my diet more (because apparently I haven't been watching it already? What? People, these numbers are great considering the amount of Easter candy I've had tempting me this week!) And while I'm eating less, I need to gain more weight. Also, I probably need an EKG. And the baby needs an EKG. And have I got the directions for my glucose test? (This is the part where I roll my eyes and inform the nurses that if they give me that test, I will probably go into a diabetic coma). And okay, well, since we can torture you by giving you sugar, let me draw your blood and give you a jug so you can collect your urine for the next 24 hours. Don't pretend like it is awkward to keep a cooler of pee in your bathroom. Have we told you you're at risk for preeclampsia? Also, drive another 30 min to bring the pee jug back here as soon as you finish the test. And then don't forget your progesterone shot (and while you're at it, get those two unsightly warts burned off your finger. One of them may need some "carving.") Also, we are going to add another shot to your daily regimen...

The miracle of this all is that I've only broke down crying twice to my husband, once to my mother, and once to my sister-in-law.

My husband held me and told me to make the dark cloud hanging over me go away (me =depressed much this week), as well as sending several pep-talks via email (he's had to be gone a lot this week, bless grad school's heart).  Today I bragged to him that I didn't even tear up when they attacked my warts and he told me it was because I was too stubborn to cry. Actually, I really loved that compliment.

My mother, gotta love her, decided not to give me the "buck up and deal with it" speech (she's really good at that one) but the "I know it doesn't seem like it, but you are doing a great job and you may need to cheat on your diet to keep yourself sane" speech, which made me feel like I could not only handle my life, but I could be grateful for it. And eat some chocolate without feeling totally guilty.

And my sister-in-law? My five minute cry session with her probably did more than anything to make me feel better, because she commiserated with me, and we talked about the reality that motherhood sucks sometimes, even when you love your babies so much, and that although it may be absolutely awful to want to quit being mom, we think it sometimes.

And that's okay.

It happens.

Just so you know.