I think I might love Toddler H too much. This thought popped into my head tonight as Rob carried H upstairs to give him his bath and put him to bed. You know, without me. First of all, I nursed him and gave him ten zillion kisses. And I didn’t want to give him up. As Rob carried him up the stairs I called out “Night night! Love you!” and it was all I could do not to run up the stairs after them and whisk my baby back into my arms. And I have been fighting with and begging Rob to help me out with putting him to bed a few nights a week.
And it’s true! I need help. It’s hard spending ALLLLL DAY (and night) with someone. Especially little someones who are always touching you, crying, screaming, testing your patience. Okay, and the good stuff: kissing you, talking to you, making you laugh, sitting in your lap, putting cheerios in the play kitchen oven… But, it’s wearing. And I realize that emotionally, I need a break from it. Which is why I have begged and pleaded to receiveit.
So why does it feel so awful? Why do I feel like half of my body is upstairs while I’m downstairs? And why do I feel the overwhelming desire to go run upstairs, kiss his little cheeks, smell his toddler smell, pull him in close and snuggle him? Even after being with him all day, even after being so frustrated at his screaming while I cooked dinner, even after I reached my breaking point and almost cried from being overwhelmed, I still don’t REALLY want to be away from him.
I think when you give birth to a child, sometimes, part of your soul gets attached to him. I’m not sure it’s like this for every mother. Well, I know it’s not or there wouldn’t be any unwanted children. Or maybe sometimes, hopefully most times, the universe/God/Goddess/etc. just picks the perfect complementary soul for your soul. Mama & baby soul mates. Whatever this is, it is divine.
And scratch that, I don’t love my child too much; I love him the perfect amount: just more than I love myself.