Mommy Confession

After I've been holding and rocking and bouncing my crying baby for hours, he starts to become this weight, this heaviness. His pudgy little fingers and round cheeks, his solid little body, turns into this hundred pound thousand pound weight that has shackled me into my house, into the grey area of motherhood. I feel so tied down and stuck and frustrated and... well just fuzzy around the edges. I feel like I don't know what I'm doing and I never will and I just.want.him.to.stop.crying. I want to release myself from this shackle, this prison, and run away.
... then I gently place my crying baby into his crib, give him his lovey bear, and walk away. I go to the kitchen or the bathroom or the laundry room or anywhere there isn't a crying baby needing me. I take 5 deep breaths. I count to 10. I find 3 things that I am so grateful for today, in this moment, even when everything else feels like it's sucking the life out of me. I hold onto those 3 things and tuck them into the pocket of my heart, a beacon of light to get me through the dark. I smile 3 smiles; a crazy manic mommy smile that looks like it should belong on a psycho clown, a halfhearted 'let's get this over with' smile, and then I let the real one come through... because I'm being silly. Because today is only one day. Because in an hour things'll change again and might be better. Because he's only a crying baby for so long.
... then I go back to my crying baby and I pick him back up. And suddenly he's tiny again; light as a feather. I wipe away his tears and his chubby little fingers curl around mine and I know... I just know. We'll get through this. Whatever *this* may be.