Emmy’s out the door on the way to camp. I run to the shower; this is my chance! Tangled hair between my fingers from postpartum hair loss distracts me as I rush to get reasonably clean. I hear Ryan’s cries over the running shower. I am pulled to him but allow myself this time, this two minutes, to feel a little bit human.
He continues to cry as I step out of the shower and search for something to wear from the pile of clothes I haven’t had a chance to put away. I’ll wear shorts that are a little too tight and one of my maternity shirts that can pass for a regular one. This is what fits. I sing to him while I clumsily get dressed.
I finally pick him up and his cries stop immediately. I need to find the carrier and get him in it so I can walk Romeo. I put him down again and he cries. Once he’s snuggled in near me he stops again and we can both breathe, probably in unison.
I write this in my phone as I allow Romeo some time to play at the park. I wonder if people are judging me with my wet hair, bags under my eyes, and fingers typing away on my phone.
This is who I am right now. A messy version of myself. A version where I am so needed- to literally keep these humans I somehow created alive. It’s not pretty or instagram worthy really, but it’s life.
We get back home. Ryan has fallen back asleep in the carrier. I’ll squat down and grab Romeo a scoop of food trying not to wake the baby. I’ll wonder how I’m able to do this while still recovering from childbirth, with my ab muscles separated and healing.
The messy kitchen and dishwasher that needs unloading glare at me, but I’ll sit and bounce on the yoga ball while he sleeps. Hoping soon I can put together something to eat. Hoping soon I can maybe put on a bit of mascara and concealer to appear a little more awake.
Until then I bounce, with my baby boy peacefully sleeping on my chest. Knowing that within this mess is the most incredible love I’ve ever felt. I’ll look back one day and wonder how I did it. I’ll think “wow that was hard.” And I’ll also, not for one minute, regret that I wasn’t able to “keep it all together.” I’ll be grateful I was able to be there, in all my messiness, for my babies.