Finding Peace

I remember shortly after P was born, in the midst of my struggle, my own mother telling me, "She's too little to give right now; all she can do is take." And in those first few months my mom would tell me this and I would roll my eyes because how stupid, but over the last year I have found myself saying this over and over.

{don't you just hate it when your mom is right? She really is, like, all the damn time}

So I waited for P to grow up and I wished the days away (no, I do not regret that) and wanted her to be older so she could hug me and miss me and appreciate me and give. And a few weeks ago the clouds broke and my little girl grew up. I asked her for a hug, and wouldn't you know she actually gave me one! Then she started blowing kisses. And now, she leans forward for me to kiss her tiny little forehead. I could hug that girl forever, except after about two seconds the hug is over and she pushes me away and starts pointing at a piece of lint on the floor and reaches out for that instead of me, but as soon as I ask her for a hug again, she willingly gives one.

Were the horrible days of wanting nothing to do with my baby worth it to get to this place of appreciation and love? Probably. Would I want to go through it again? Hell no.

But what I have learned is that in our short lived hugs together there is peace. When I sit with her on the floor and she builds her block towers and squeals and points for me to see it, there is peace. When she lays still in her crib while I tuck her in at night, there is peace. When we're driving home from a fun filled weekend at Nana and Papa's house and she's sleeping in the backseat, there is peace.

These moments do not happen multiple times a day. Some days are filled with cries and tantrums and her attempting to throw a toy at me because I told her no or won't let her eat my shoe, and some days are filled with boredom when she has no interest in her toys and relies solely on me or Hubs to help her climb to dangerous heights on furniture (no dear child, no). Some days are harder than others. Some days I need to walk away from her and just have a moment to myself. Some days I wish she would just watch TV and give me a break for an hour or two (too young?). Some days I get frustrated. Some (most) days I make Hubs do most of the dirty work (literally, because some of those diapers I just can't even). Some days go too slow and I count the minutes until bedtime. And some days I never want to end because I can't believe how amazing this is and I fear tomorrow will be a poop-filled, crying over my dirty shoes kind of day that I won't be able to handle.

I take those moments of peace I have with P and I tuck them away for when days like that happen. I keep them close to me for when I'm having a bad day. I remember them when I'm struggling. When P was born, she was only able to take, but I was too sick to give. I'll spend forever trying to make that time up to her and to myself, but I will find peace in knowing that I am well enough to give now, and on the days when she can't that I am more than happy for her to take.