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Proclaiming My Hot Mess Glory

This morning a mom asked me how I kept myself together through our struggle. She said my words seem so poised, as if they were written by a rested soul.

So I wanted to clarify. To set the record. To be honest. In case it seems that I dance above the drama, this is me. In all my hot mess glory.

My son never slept through the night until about 11 or 12 months. Which escalated my postpartum depression that would cause me to cry silently for hours each night as I tried to sooth him & robbed me of my sanity. He was chronically ill with a list a mile long. I joke about having PTSD from his first 2.5 years, but quite frankly I’m sure there’s truth to that. My battle with anxiety prevents me from being able to think clearly in the midst of highly stressful situations. I work 45 hours a week which means I see my son for about 3 hours each weekday. We read books during meals, watch wild kratts on weekends & I lay with him until he’s asleep almost every night. He throws epic tantrums that nobody sees & knows his timeout square well. He’s still is not a great sleeper & constantly sick. I have severe ADD/ADHD which I honestly believe is one of the reasons I can survive a week on 8 hours of sleep. My posts are always written in the dead of night while I’m over-processing the day but too afraid to sleep. You can find me here a lot, taking naps with him.

I am far from perfect.

I don’t follow the”parenting rules”.

I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.

And that’s ok.

I don’t remember when it was, but sometime between his 1st & 2nd year I had a complete postpartum meltdown. I had tried every single thing to get him to sleep, save my sanity & bring peace to our home. Nothing worked. So in that moment as I was lying on the kitchen floor exhausted & sobbing something inside of me let go. To expectations, to judgment, to perfectionism. I just simply stopped caring. So we do what works for us. Regardless of if its right or wrong. I don’t care anymore what others think, I simply raise my son. I’m overly honest about my journey because there are other moms breaking down on floors.

Let go mamas. Just do your thing. Know that you are good & the fog will rise.

I am in the other side where joy outnumbers the hard. It will pass sweet mama. It will pass.

I promise.

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