Today is a perfect lesson in the oxymoron that is my life. While I have not updated my followers, I have spent the past months creating, growing, and meeting the unexpected miracle that is number four. (More on that later, I promise.) But for now, on to today’s post.
I have been away from work for eight weeks. In that time, I have experienced an eventful hospital stay (including the amazing birth of a beautiful human being, frightening blood loss and painful procedures to make it stop, and a 5:00 am fire alarm), come home with a newborn in a snow storm (high stress for me), had oral surgery, and potty trained twins (most of the way). An entire online class has been taken (final exam due Wednesday), my teacher book has been worked on, and the grades my long term sent me were always entered in a timely manner. I have cleaned out all of the cupboards in my kitchen and straightened the closets, vacuumed several times a day, and cleaned up continuous messes made by the previously mentioned potty-training twins. I have sorted and packed up eleven Rubbermade totes of out-grown clothes and multiple boxes of too-small shoes, which I have toted to the shed (also straightened by yours truly in the past few weeks).
There have been countless appointments, forms, applications, and phone calls completed in this time. Most difficult for me is the fact that I’ve been alone most days from sun up to sun down (or later) due to a husband who works so hard to help provide for us and had very little interaction with adults or the outside world. I am a social person! My children make for interesting company, to say the least. To say I am ready to return to work tomorrow is an understatement.
Tomorrow I will not be able to snuggle my tiny, warm baby or receive random kisses from my twins. I will have to call or text to know how their day is going. I won’t be the one to care for them if there is an accident or they get upset. I will not be able to run to my first grader at the drop of a hat if something happens at school. I will have to leave them in capable hands that are not my own, and though I trust the one who will be caring for them, it will not be me.
Tomorrow I will leave my house with a smile of gratitude to be going to something less exhausting and tears for all I am leaving behind. (I may also be yelling something akin to “Free at last!” while sobbing and hiccuping.)
Y’all, please pray for me.