Relentless..and forgotten

Just keep swimming......

I am sitting at a coffee shop doing some work, and a young mum walks in with a baby in a front swaddle. She looks so peaceful, so delighted, so utterly content with life. Two or three short months ago, she has undergone the most excruciatingly painful ordeal the body can undergo, possibly starting months before she gave birth, culminating in her body being stretched and ripped and pounded, for hours and hours, maybe days, and then left in a heap of exhaustion after which she had to stay up all night, tending to the this precious little creature that simultaneously completes her and makes her want to punch somebody while screaming at the top of her lungs. She has not slept in months, and her body is depleted, withered, a husk, in order that this little bundle of scrumptious insanity lives, thrives, is loved beyond any love imaginable.

And yet, she has all but forgotten all that. In this moment, all that matters is the glow of ecstasy she feels at having her perfect creation sleeping next to her heart, breathing her breaths, dreaming her thoughts, its tiny body snuggling into her warm softness, the closest it can be to mummy, to safety, to the very core of life. All the other shit she went through doesn't matter. Because look. 

In a year or so, there will be another one. Because, loooook!

I feel like this ability to forget the absolute horror show that having a child delivers to your life is a mum superpower, and I feel like it doesn't stop at giving birth. Recently, my daughter, who turns 5 in two days, has put us through hell. I do understand this is not unusual - that the "terrible twos" (as I have mentioned in one of my earlier posts) is just a ruse to lull us all into some kind of naive smugness before the actual shit hits the fan, in the form of threes, fours and fives, and probably upwards until you die - and that toddlerhood and preschool hood is all very very tricky, but she has a special form of shit-bagness that drives us fucking bananas. I am sure I'm not alone in feeling this. 

The thing that astounds me, is how adaptable we become to it, and how instantaneously we forget it. I have a theory that this being figuratively (and sometimes literally) being punched in the heart, stomach, face, knees, insert sensitve body part, and then moving on to the next thing, which is usually some form of laughter punctuated by delicious smiles, or immaculate curiosity, or being dragged fervently across the room to play with the latest dollhouse (I remind you, this is seconds after you have just been called the worst mummy in the world, I will never ever be your friend again, the most hated creature in the universe and feel like the most cataclysmic failure ever to crawl the earth) while singing cheerily, I reckon this scenario of startling paradoxical bizarreness lasts until death do us part. Otherwise, how in God's name would we survive? 

Every time our pickle enters a new "phase" (I call it this to try and convince myself that this too will pass, and quickly please) we feel battered, unprepared, shocked, sometimes I have just stood there, speechless and immobile, whilst being screamed at by a red faced demon child because a dollie's teacup fell over. This lasts for a few weeks, this feeling of something close to despair, and, after realising it's not going to go away, we frantically scrabble around to try and find a way to support, help, understand, weather the storm, all without losing our fucking minds. 

It slightly lessens as our sweet pea starts to cotton onto the fact that even this, we can handle, but I have noticed that we become almost immune to it. In doing so, we have earned our trophy, overcome yet another obstacle, well done and congratulations to us. It does not feel like a victory. It is so subtle that it feels like a nothing. But in retrospect, this is how we keep functioning as parents. The craziness loses its power, doesn't seem so crazy, we use the tools that work and therefore we are able to deal with it and put our energy into the next exciting and unforeseen phase. 

Maybe it's love? Maybe it's evolution? Whatever it is, I am glad that it is given to us, because, much like our brain filtering out most of what we see, without it, I don't know how I would get up every morning and keep going!

Thanks for reading x