Maybe He's Just a Difficult Child
He’s heavy in my arms, physically and mentally. He only wants me and the unrelenting need is exhausting. I’m permanently carrying around a 14 pound weight and I wonder how much longer I can keep going.
All day and all night I rock, I swat, I jiggle, I sway, I snuggle, and I plead.
We find it hard to attach to him. He still feels like a stranger. A tiny person who has come into our incredibly strong family unit of three and, like a tornado, has left us scrambling to pick up the pieces.
Maybe he’s just a difficult child. The thought pops into my head at 2 am. For three months I’ve been trying to fix him. And now at 3.5 months I think that maybe there’s nothing to fix. That he’s just difficult.
There are days I’m looking at him and he’s looking at me with the eyes so similar to his brothers. And he’s grinning. His eyes light up the moment they lock onto mine. In that exact moment I’m convinced everything will be okay. But five minutes later he’s upset again and I don’t know why. I can’t fix it. But what I wouldn’t give to fix it.
I feel guilty for feeling this way. Here is a beautiful baby boy who feels immediate comfort just from the sight of me. How lucky I am! But I am tired. So, so tired. After all, I’m an introvert. I get recharged by being alone. And with him, alone time is hard to come by. A 35 minute walk by myself puts a strain on the rest of the family.
So instead, I just keep pushing. I get up with heavy feet, dragging my weary body to his room, with a barely functioning mind. I pick him up and do my best to comfort him, knowing I'll be back within a couple of hours.
I hope the day will come when things feel easier. I want my family to be happy, to feel complete, not like the three of us versus one. He is loved, but I also want him to be liked.
I'm sure we'll get there.
We have to get there.
He's just a difficult child right now.