6 months ago I waddled into the exam room for my 39 week appointment. 7 hours and a couple of pushes later, our sweet little boy was born. We struggled through the newborn stage together – him learning to live in the new world around him, me adapting to motherhood. We survived. We said goodbye to Clay and then goodbye again. And then goodbye once more. Weston will more than likely be walking when Clay comes home for R&R and talking when he comes home for good. I try not to think about what Clay is missing but instead what I am blessed to experience.
I seem to be having to remind myself of my blessings a lot as of late. I am sure teething is to blame but my little boy is testing me. He is fussy more times than happy. I couldn’t even get him to smile for a picture this morning (see above). He now wakes up multiple times during the night. And I am starting to unravel just a tiny bit. My patience is wearing and the lack of sleep catching up with me, despite my copious intake of caffeine. I tear up when I can’t console my son and I there are times I want to lay down and cry just because. I know this is due to me being overtired and I keep telling myself that this too shall pass. Sadly, over the past couple of days, I do not think I was the calm and collected mother I pictured myself to be while pregnant.
I know I can do this. I have to do this. I am not the first and I won’t be the last to have a husband away at war. I am no more special than any other mom trying to keep it together. I am lucky that I have the support and encouragement of Clay, even if he is 6000 miles away. I am lucky to have family willing to trek over here and help out when they can. And most of all, I am lucky to have Weston. So very lucky.