Dance Recital.

Danielle is in a dance class. I think she likes it because she has friends in it. She also gets to dress up which is super exciting. And to top it all off- they got to dance ON THE STAGE this weekend.

It took days for this to happen. Day 1-John went with Danielle to the practice. I can't tell you how glad I was that John went with Danielle. So many excited moms can get a little overwhelming. I feel bad that I don't get to talk to people but I always feel like you don't really get to talk that much anyway. Plus I hate driving and it's easier to stay home and make dinner.
But I really wanted to see Danielle- she is so adorable and she wanted us to come see her dance on the stage. I didn't want to get guilted about not coming the night before. Not that anyone actually cares, but sometimes I just see all those excited moms and feel a little overwhelmed.

I went to the practice. I didn't really go talk to anyone at first since I haven't seen people in a long time and I thought it would start at the time the flyer said. OR ONE HOUR LATER. I forgot to bring paper. My cell phone died. I realized I forgot to get prizes for the girls in Danielle's class. One of them had a box full of bags for each kid in their class and personalized chocolate suckers. Why didn't I think to get ballerina colored suckers? Or the optional flowers for the girls after the performance. Sometimes I wonder if parents realize the reason their child "loves it" is one part sparkles and ten parts you being excited for them and finally paying attention to them. The other day I realized Danielle doesn't "love" gardening as much as she loves doing something with me. anything.

Yesterday I wished I had ever watched more than ten minutes of toddlers in tiaras so I would know how to talk to the moms. Also maybe I would be better at doing hair. I wondered if the other mom's wouldn't want to talk to me because my child doesn't have a neat curling iron bun. Or her own set of dance makeup.

Also my child picking her nose and eating it right in the middle of the performance wasn't the most graceful thing ever. Or trying to chase the curtain as it was closing so she could still be the center of attention.

Most of the kids didn't know the routines. at all. But they were adorable. A really nice mom lent me some bobby pins so Danielle's hat would stay in place. I wondered why I was the only one who felt like I was in a strange land. I have friends who have their children in the class. Maybe this is just one more step in to the world of being an adult that I'm not ready for. I wanted to let my toddler run to the stage.

I already have the kids who want to run on the stage and scream in church. I guess the other day Danielle planted herself on the floor in sunbeams and didn't want to get up. I'm just not ready for the moms who are living their dream of being a ballerina through their perfectly scheduled children. Not saying that everyone is like that... Some days I don't feel mature enough for the mom world.
Like when I tell my friend I can't believe I paid to do this and she says she lives for the recital. it is better than Christmas.
Or like when I am waiting FOREVER in an auditorium with nothing to do. With people who don't seem to notice the wait time is getting excessive.

I am officially old now. Going to my child's performance. In a class I paid for her to go to. Well that John paid for. Danielle was so happy we got to see her dance. I sort of thought it was great, which made me question what type of mom I will be even more. Maybe I will fill her four year old life with as many classes as I can and stop letting her watch kid shows.
I would probably feel like a better mother if I did.

She was sick for the actual performance. It was sad.
maybe that's why they need so many rehearsals.

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Sunday Thoughts

I don't think the perfect mom would be having a meltdown right now about her daughter not sleeping. She would just rock the sad child back to sleep with a lullaby. Her three year old child would obediently go to bed at eight and also take an early afternoon nap. If you guys don't start sleeping soon I don't know what will happen, but it won't be good.

I was talking to my sister the other day about some moms she knows who tell her she will have kids as soon as she isn't afraid of them anymore. They ask her if she realizes "the church" meaning the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints tells you to have children. They remind her that as a working woman, she has no idea what it is like to be busy and tired. My sister questioned why all these women were so unhappy with their lives. Their husbands- their children.
I love my children so much, but I feel like having children is the hardest thing I've ever done. I never thought I would just wish for it to be easy- to stop feel like I am fighting for control of my own sanity.
After Danielle was born I found myself crying a lot. For hours a day I would sit there and cry after the baby went to sleep or when she was awake. Almost all the time when I was alone. I felt like all my worst fears had come true. I couldn't breastfeed. I was so tired. I wasn't going to work. I was fat. She wouldn't stop screaming at me. She had reflux and seemed to always be angry with me. She didn't let me feed her rice cereal. She kept throwing up on me. I remember wondering if I would always feel so empty inside. I hated all the moms that told me how easy having just one child was. then I moved to a place where some of the moms at church had sick kids.
I feel like those sick children changed how I felt about motherhood. I would be terrified if my child died. Maybe I started coming out of the tunnel of sadness with the help of some great anti-depressants. I never bonded with my baby. I knew I wouldn't do anything to hurt her and would take care of her needs, but it was hard to talk to moms about how great it was to have children. I never wanted to admit that I wished I was dead but I didn't want to do anything about it because that would make me an irresponsible mother. I'm glad I got professional help to start to feel like I was alive again.
My first labor was terrible. I wanted to have another baby. To prove to myself that I could do it. People started telling me that two wasn't hard, three was.
Having baby Mark changed everything. I've never been so tired. Staying up for a few months in a row will really make you crazy I'm convinced. Mark tried to stay up all night and sleep during the day. But he took a bottle for a few weeks while I tried to figure the breastfeeding/pumping thing out and then he switched back to breastfeeding. He let me feed him. He LOVED me. I immediately felt like I loved this baby more than anything, in an intense way I thought must be a hormone released in new mothers and maybe more in breastfeeding new mothers. I have no idea what it was, but it made me feel terrible. Because I didn't have it the first time. I just felt lost. I filled my emptiness up with cute little dresses and matching shoes. This time was different. I was connected to Mark but still sad. I never anticipated waking up with children and forgetting who I was. What I loved to do. When Mark was a week old I sat in his room in the middle of the night and cried about how easy he seemed. Then I cried because I had grown to love Danielle but wondered if she would ever forgive me for not loving her immediately.
I'm different now. But I'm also still the same. I've had an easier time deciding the commit to the care of my children than I've had feeling alive. I tried not to blame my religion for telling me motherhood is a holy calling. I knew I shouldn't blame my children. I tried not to blame my husband for being busy and emotionally exhausted with school. I tried not to blame my mom for not coming to help since she was sick. I tried not to blame the church ladies for saying they would love to help but never doing anything. Except Paula.

I'm grateful for my friends. I think they saved my life. After Mark was born I remember feeling horrible and having Melissa from the med school come over and watch the kids while I slept. She cleaned my whole house. Sarah watched the kids and I went to the dentist. Melissa came again when I was sick with a breast infection. Holly came and John and I went on a date to the grocery store. Best date ever. Melissa watched them again. I have no idea how she can clean any house in 30 minutes and keep the children happy, but those kind of skills might be why she's in medical school. Then Carlie came and watched the kids and I went to the gym and took a nap every day for a week. At the end she probably felt like dying but I felt like I was a person again.

I feel really sad about how hard it is to have depression after having kids. To feel like you are lost somewhere in a sea of what you wanted your life to be and what other people say. When I became a mother I didn't understand the lost feelings at the beginning of the day, or the anger I suddenly had. Taking anti-depressants made it possible for me to love my daughter and start to feel alive again.
I know in the end I will make it though unbroken. I will know who I am and love my children. I will be a different person. I don't know if I will always live under the cloud of depression that I've carried since my first pregnancy. I don't know if I will ever weigh what I did before I had Danielle (Oh wait- yes I do and I will.) I didn't know what to tell my sister when talked about those mothers who hurt her feelings. I don't always know if I will be able to fit in to my religion as a mother who doesn't feel that holy or fulfilled. But I know that I will always be a mom and I will never give up on them. I know that even if I am broken inside and lost, I can pick up the pieces and start over again.

I love the people who helped me,
including my little kiddos.

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