MomGuilt: I forgot to watch you grow.

Watching my children growing.  A very real pain, deep inside me. Welling with emotion, regret, and sadness. Deep Sadness.  The kind of sadness that bubbles up in your belly, moves up your throat and comes out your eyeballs. Okay, crying. Lots of sadness, and lots of crying. ..and some more crying. (Because we can use the hormones we got from pregnancy is an excuse forever, and don’t you forget it!)

Because you need to slow down, because I’m not ready yet.

Because I’m that mom that forgets to cut your fingernails, toenails and some days even making sure you are a visibly presentable child. Because sometimes I’m failing, and some days the best thing I am doing is to let you look socially unacceptable.  Some days you wear “cowboy” boots with plaid shorts and a long sleeve flannel top because I’m too tired to argue about how its 90 degrees outside and how you aren’t wearing socks in rubber boots (And I’m not even 100% sure you have on underwear).

Because not every day is our day. And some days REALLY aren’t our day. And every day, I question my ability to be your mother. Because you deserve the best, and I'm really not sure that I'm it.                                                             

I forget to notice all the small things each and every day.  I’m so suffocated in an everyday routine that I forget to notice you growing…then the days that I have a moment to experience a calm, I experience so much pain.

That guilty pain of being a mom,
a working mom,
A working mom in school,
A full time working mom in school who is sometimes selfish with her time,
A working mom in school who is sometimes selfish and goes through fast food thinking it will create more time to do important things…

But what could be more important than being with you?

When the babysitter notices things about you that I don’t, or when she cuts your nails because I forgot when she told me they were long…..then forgot again, or she finds all the dirt in the crevice of your neck that I’ve failed to clean for 3 days…(Okay. Well, maybe 5), or the wax that can inevitably be seen in your ear within a 10 mile radius.
It’s not because I don’t care, and I wish I could say it’s because all my time is devoted to making memories and laughing and loving that I forgot the necessities and daily care for you…But I’d be lying.

 Because let’s face it, if you had a bath yesterday and it comes down to bath time or 30 minutes to poop alone (3 seconds to lock the door, 2 minutes to poop, 20 minutes to scroll through Facebook and 8 minutes to sulk in silence) there is no comparison, child.

You. Are. Not. Getting. A. Bath.

But mama (reminding myself) they are only this way for so long.

 I never realized that the last time I carried my son to bed could have been the last time he ever let me. Or even the last time he showed me that little itchy spot right inside his butt crack, next time it may be too embarrassing to show mommy your butt!

Inconvenienced about the glass of chocolate milk that my son could clearly reach for himself, but asked me to get it for him….One day he won’t need me for that…or even care to need me for that.

Because one day, a hell of a lot sooner than I want to believe, he won’t need me anymore for the things that inconvenience me now. For the things that make me his parent. He won’t need me to pick out his clothes, help him button his pants,  or tie his shoes. He won’t need a bedtime story, and an extra snuggle before drifting to sleep.  While he will likely always still need someone to wash his clothes, cook him food, and make sure he scrubbed all the dirt off in the tub, it won't be me. One day.. I won't be his #1 and I will have to share this experience with someone who will be.

He won’t care for me to tickle him,  or sneakily getting into bed between me and daddy (which isn’t very sneakily) and one day those moments will be gone and I won’t remember when the last was, only that it was once there and that chapter of both of our lives  has closed.  Talk about a hard pill to swallow.

Every day we are together, every day we wake up and we go about our routines and we spend so much time together, but somehow…

Somehow, I forgot to watch you grow.

Because day over day it seems as if nothing changes, and looking back everything has changed. Everything is different.

Your voice, I can’t remember the day you started talking clearly and your baby voice went away.. I can remember the day I realized it was gone and it broke my heart because I didn’t want to say goodbye to your mumbled vocabulary with the sweet, shrill squeaks in your voice. Why didn’t I notice that it was going away? How could I not?

I can’t remember when your hands grew so big. Before noticing, I can’t remember the last time I really took a good look at your hands.  With buying every new shoe size, how did it not dawn on me how big your feet were getting?

Your smile. All filled with bright shiny teeth. I remember a time when you didn’t have any teeth. You didn’t talk, but we always had a way of communicating. I guess that’s the bond we share. Because as a mom, you will never have to tell me… I always know.

Your personality, it grew into something unfathomable. So sweet, endearing, sassy, and sarcastic. How did I not notice you changing? Because all I know now is that you did. But I wanted to say goodbye to that quiet little boy you once were. I wanted to thank him for staying a while and introduce me to the new boy you are now.

And, sometimes I want to say sorry.
Because you were my first.
Because you were the one  who taught me everything, and are a result of all my mistakes.
Because you were trial and error.
Because I’m still learning who I am, and how to make you who you will be.
Because I forgot to notice you growing.

Because it took me a while to figure this whole “mom” thing out, and every day I am still learning. But I know you forgive me every time I'm a bad mommy, a mean mommy, or a selfish mommy. And I will always forgive you for every time you are a rotten child, a mouthy child, and an entitled child.

But I need you to slow down please, because I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
Because I’ll never be ready to watch you grow.

 

https://youtu.be/clcNB_EUao8

 

 

 

 

Mothers Day: For the Mom "Like Me" - A Mom after Loss

 

This may or may not be the first year that Mother's day has been like a sour patch kid sidekick.

So painful, yet sweet. Acknowledging the loss of the children you cannot see can be so hard for others, but on the day of the year that we celebrate being mothers- it is so invisible it's painful.

Not because we don't want to acknowledge our children who are not in their earthly forms; but because there is such a sorrow in what is otherwise a beautiful day.

 

What do you get the grieving mom for Mother's Day? What constitutes a grieving mom? Did she lose a child a year ago? Did she lose her child 10 years ago? How long should I acknowledge her other children on these occasions? You know...the children we can't see...

 

Forever. The answer is, forever.

 

Why? Because a mothers love never ceases to exist.

 

Having children is so easily comparable to marriage. Until death do us part. And only those who have lost know, that it never ends there. Does your "paps" stop being your grandfather when he has passed? How about your Nana? No? Well then... My child will always be my child, even if today I cannot hold them in my arms. Even if today I cannot hear them laugh.

 

Even if today I cannot share photos of my favorite moments together.

 

Because I am also the Mother of an Angel (Or two)

 

It is not unwelcomed on Mother's Day for you to celebrate with those Mothers the lives of the children that are not physically here. But, there is such melancholy in celebration. Such pain and sweetness. Such sorrow and rejoice; for several reasons.

 

1. Rejoice that my children are with my God Almighty in a place I cannot fathom in my wildest dreams. Rejoice they may never have to experience any heartache, or the physical hurt of our world.

 

For those of you that have had the opportunity to conceive following the loss of your child, you will understand this one:

 

2. Though I will never forget my children that have gone too soon, it led me to my sweet Mia. It led me to know a whole new love. A love after loss.

 

You see. There are many types of love, but two of which will never be confused. Love before loss, and love after loss. One is no stronger than the other, because I love my children equally; but one is more fierce. It is more bold. It is more understanding, more patient, and more thankful.

 

Love after loss; the love I've had the greatest regret and pleasure in knowing.

 

Because on Mother's Day this year, all the while celebrating like tradition says: eating breakfast with my children, trying to play "nice mommy" while the 4 year old wants to gallivant the restaurant bathroom to poop, my 9 month old has excreted every odor known to man which is now leaking through her pants onto mine. The man next to me is surely wondering how they celebrate moms "like me" who can't manage to get their shit together for a 40 minute trip into the restaurant alone with two kids. You know, the typical mom thing.

 

But "moms like me" aren't identified as the ones who need a break, the ones who don't know if they're doing it right, the ones that think Mothers Day is only for the ones who are worth mentioning. Come on, that's all moms. We're all a mess, We all want well behaved children the waking hours of the day, and the one who has manners, and enough cooth to not announce to the morning crowd their need to defecate, and their specific want to do it in the restaurant rather than the 2 minute drive to papaws.

 

But... "Moms like me" are the ones who repeat to themselves "This is exactly why we aren't having any more children!" and then feel immediate guilt. Because Today I could have had 3 children with me rather than two...

But that would mean that my sweet little 9 month old, the one who so graciously gifted me and the rest of the restaurant with a crinkled nose and a sour stomach; may not have shared today with me.

 

While every day I celebrate being a mom, I spent Mother's Day this year celebrating Mia. Mia has consoled my heart. She has given me the gift as a Mother that I never wanted, and now...Could never do without.

 

A love after loss.

 

The love that knows loss, knows pain, knows regret...and loves even harder! The love that both my children will have the opportunity to experience, but came at such an emotional cost.

 

A love after loss.

 

The love that is independent, is bold and strong, and knows how deep it flows into every essence of motherhood.

 

Happy Mothers Day to the Mom "Like Me" and has been forever blessed and forsaken with the love after loss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In loving memory of Paisley Marie & Presley Ann

Burrell

 

Born into Eternal Life: September 11, 2014.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The most beautiful piece of me.

The four most beautiful pieces of my soul live outside my body.

 

The four most vulnerable pieces of my soul live outside my body.

 

The four most precious, valuable, and sacred pieces of my soul live outside my body.

 

My children are the most beautiful piece of me.

 

 

This mom life is no joke. It's no creative disaster, it's no day of sunshine, it's nothing like I had imagined amidst entering motherhood. That day a living, breathing, and dependent being is put in your arms .. for me, that was the day I lost myself. I lost myself divinely, purposefully, and whole fully in my child- because you, little one, are a piece of my heart that I never understood, but now it's so clear.

 

Being a Mother is this worlds toughest job. You have the toughest critics, minimal appreciation, and all the while you have given up your heart and soul to walk externally out of your body.

 

I'm not sure about you, but every day I live in fear. A raging and suffocating fear I had never known prior to being a mother. The fear that if something were to ever happen to my children, either one, that I would lose myself.

 I would lose the biggest part of me.

 I would lose my drive.

I would lose my ambitions.

I would lose my happiness

My joy

My pride

All of these pieces of me, live every day in my children.

 

There is so much in motherhood that I could have never imagined existed. Everyone tries to explain to you before your child the love that you are about to know, and they are so negligent in not telling you- It's the greatest and most fulfilling love your heart will ever understand, but... it's terrifying. It is absolutely, positively, terrifying.

Why?

Well, because all at once, sitting in that hospital bed- everything you've ever known or thought you knew about this exact moment was a lie.

 This, this exact split-second in your life where you no longer exist how you did moments ago.

 You are restored. You are fulfilled.

You are new, and brave.

 Scared, and brave.

Absolutely terrified- but damn it, you are so incredibly brave!

Because this world needs more brave.

 

Piece by piece, my children walk with the most incredible parts of me and they have no idea.

No idea how deep my love runs for their smiles, their voices, the innermost parts of what makes them who they are. Beautiful pieces of me.

 

Love,

1/5 of The Beauteous Burrell

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Working Mom; Why your exhaustion is beautiful.

 

 

Hey Mama,

I know how you feel.

 

Tired.

Not just kind-of tired. Dog-Tired.

Monotonous.
Bat-shit crazy.

Absent.

Tapped Out.

On the tail end of a Donkey.

Depleted.
Stick-a-fork-in-me-and-call-me-well-done.

 

I feel every [potential baby vomit-tinged] hair on your head when I say I am picking up what you are putting down.

 

-Tired of the sleepless nights, which lead to endless days

-Tired of tantrums, and incessant spills
-Tired of sippy cups with mysteriously no matching godforsaken lid anywhere in this universe.
-Tired of being tattled on by your tiny dictators

-Tired of having your patience tested by the children at home and in your workplace
-Tired of people without children, telling you they're tired
-Tired of smells and messes appearing in your home you never imagined could be created by humans

-Tired of never finding a single matching children's sock in your home, or basically any clean article of clothing

(Only to name a few)
 

 

Oh. and the fucking laundry.

 

  All the while mama, you feel guilty. I feel guilty. Though you love your children beyond the greatest imagination of this world, sometimes you just want to sprint out the door like a fire was ignited in your pants, to a padded room with a straight-jacket; where there will hopefully be another adult who doesn't depend on you, or me and can't even make out any muffled sounds of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Dora the Explorer, or Spongebob shit-for-brains.

 

You feel guilty for yelling about the spill that was an accident, but is just that much more work for you to take care of. You feel guilty at the thought of even potentially wanting to be alone because for a quick moment you think that if someone else heard your thoughts, you'd be scorned you horribly- selfish mother, you! Guilty because you're a working mom- and because Asshole [With a capital A] is sometimes your first, middle and last name.

 

Guilty because rushing into work this morning you didn't get the chance to rock your child and have a mini-play date even though you KNOW you don't do mornings- but what if that was the last rock your baby ever wanted? What if tomorrow your baby doesn't want rocked anymore and you wasted your damn time away this morning with an extra 20 minutes of 'sleep' which was just really drunkenly closing your eyes. Guilty, selfish mama you!

 

Just when this perfect idea arrives of uninterrupted mornings, private time to take a forbidden shit in your own house, tearless drop off's at daycare- it's gone.

 Because when your so busy working and feeling guilty, mama- time is flying.

That first time baby doesn't cry during the daily episode that could easily be broadcasted on the Morning News as the new Ice-Age Meltdown which notoriously makes you late to work..that first time that those are gone, you will realize that those perfect ideas aren't so appealing anymore.

 

There will be an end to the wants and needs, and ridiculous requests of your tiny dictators, or holding hands across the car with your child.

 

And guess what tired mama? It's coming a hell of a lot sooner than you think.

 

Because when we wish away those unbearable moments that disrupt our routines and schedules...when those moments so reluctantly disappear, so do some of the most treasured ones.

 

 

Some days you feel like you are just too tired to be a good mom. Too tired to be a good and dedicated employee, and FAR beyond too tired to be even a considerably decent wife. Hell, I am not even sure I produced minimum wage work some days, or even acknowledged my husbands faint existence! Too selfish to be a good mom. Too demanding and crazy to be a good mom (Because really- why is a clean kitchen floor so much to fucking ask? Huh!)

 Mama- you are exhausted.
Because the balancing act of being a working mom is demanding and guilt is relentless. And when you're poor, poor husband asks 'why you aren't in the mood anymore' you may just show him the new and improved level of bat-shit crazy!

 

You are feeling guilty because of the moms who make homemade glittery play-dough, and bake exotic confectionaries together on a normal basis. Guilty because you aren't doing enough. Guilty because on your day off you aren't even sure if you fed your children lunch because you were so busy trying to bask in if you were more happy to be off work, or with your babies.

You aren't being enough for your children, or your employer- because you're spread far more thin than even your own patience at this point. But mama, while I know your babies are the center of your world (And so are mine) you're world does not revolve around them. Harsh, but true.

You scold yourself for every plan you have for a successful career because it could take away time from your family. You taunt yourself when you sometimes enjoy being at work because it is the only break you can seemingly catch to have any amount of adult human interaction. You torture yourself with the thought of having your own ambitions while trying to mold your childs.

 

Working mom, you are setting yourself up for a forever short-fall if you believe for one second that you can be everyone's self-righteous and severely inflated opinion of an ideal parent. You don't have to be a perfect parent to be a great parent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey mama.

 I just want you to know one thing.

 Your exhaustion is beautiful, because it shows how much you care.