I want to tell you about Beau. About how sensitive he is and how he’s so totally emotionally tuned in to all of us. I wish you could hear the way he calls his baby sister “Baby Evvvvvie”, it’s so cute and sweet that it actually feels like my heart is going to crack and explode through my rib cage.
But he’s struggling. He really needs me right now, and while I’m giving as much of myself as I can, it doesn’t seem to be enough. And so I’m emotional, and he’s ballistic, and then the baby cries so often and for so long during the day that the three of us wind up in a tailspin of intensity.
I’d like to tell you how well Beau is doing in preschool. He went from crying every time I left in the morning to crying every time we left together in the afternoon. At first he didn’t want to go, now he doesn’t want to leave. He comes home talking about playing with his “frens” and how his buddy Sam sits with him and does puzzles. We come home and he begs me to hold him, to sit with him and read books, to “hold me mommy” at the end of the night.
“I love you Beau. You’re my baby and you always will be”, I tell him every night as I rock him to sleep. For the first two weeks after Evvie was born, he wouldn’t respond to me. He’d tell Justin he loved him, but he wouldn’t respond to me. I’d leave his room once he was sleeping with tears pouring down my cheeks. These moments are everything, the whole entire world and I don’t care what anyone says.
We’re working through all of this, the changes and the craziness and the intensity of life that is so loud it literally reverberates off of the walls and feels sometimes like they’re closing in on us.
It’s been five weeks now, five weeks since his world turned upside down.
I’d like to tell you all about how awesome it is despite the intensity, but Evvie is fussy right now, this morning, yesterday, last week. I think she might be perpetually gassy or maybe it’s reflux, perhaps her little system is having a hard time processing milk, it could be that I’m eating something that doesn’t agree with her. She fusses a lot of the day though, and it makes it especially difficult to process, to write, to be inspired, to be patient with all the beautiful little creatures in my home that need me.
So, instead I’ll try show you.
I’ve so appreciated every one of your comments on here the past several weeks, months, years. You are supportive and kind, and it’s been so awesome and unexpected for me, a tribe of mothers and friends and amazing beings that I’m just so grateful that you spend a moment of your time sharing your thoughts here and on the social networks that connect us. Your words and thoughts have helped me so much, in ways that I certainly didn’t expect. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Children are little capsules of everything, all the feelings and love and light, the good and the crazy all concentrated into their little bodies with big imaginations and monster sized hearts.
I’m lucky to partake, to learn from them. It’s intense and crazy and wonderful and everything will be ok. I might even be able to tell you about it.