Nobody Said It Was Easy...

...No one ever said it would be this hard.  Thanks, Coldplay.  You nailed it. 

This motherhood thing is, without a doubt, the most challenging thing I have ever done.  Go to Grad School?  No problem.  Lose 50 pounds?  You got it.  Run 10 miles consistently? Sure thing.  Be a mother to twins?  Ummm.

It's not so much the sleepless nights and afternoons of crankiness (times two).  It's everything that no one talks about.  It's the fact that WHEN they cry, something inside of you aches.  Not just your heart aching, but a real physical pain that you feel through every nerve in your body.  Your baby cries and you ache.  Your friends' baby cries and you just laugh cuz it's annoying but does absolutely nothing to you. 

It's the urge to scream at and cuddle that baby at the same time.  Furious that you can't sooth them but so sorry for them because they are babies and don't know any better.  It's a constant back and forth between emotions on each extreme.

It's the schedule.  One feeding after another - and that's if we are lucky to be on the same schedule.  One baby finishes eating and you wish you were done too, but you have another one waiting in the wings (often looking at you like: "leftovers?  I get leftovers?").  What could be a half hour quickly turns into an hour or more.  I know, I know...there is a way to tandem nurse and I do that too...it doesn't shorten the time by much.

It's the messes.  Not only in their diapers but on your clothes, your couch, your chairs, your counters, your bathroom, your kitchen...everywhere.  Nothing is clean or seems clean no matter how much Clorox you use.  Don't get me wrong, the diaper messes are bad too.

It's the feeding.  For those of you who have chosen to breastfeed, I give you my deepest respect.  This is not for the weary.  This is hard.  It's time consuming.  It often feels like you are ruining your body.  It hurts like hell (and if it didn't hurt like hell for you for the first bit of your baby's life, I don't even want to talk to you).  I had one twin who "got it" right away and another who, at 7 weeks, went with me back to an LC to "get it".   It messes with your body image in a way that no one talks about.  It's also one of the most rewarding things I do.  But my, it hurts like hell sometimes. 

More than the noise and the time and the aching and the messes, it's the pressure.  The pressure to do it all and be it all.  I am their mom.  The one who feeds them.  The one who, because of our work schedules and laws, stayed home with them.  The one who gets up in the middle of the night because if it's food they want, dad can't really do that.  It's the pressure to provide the best life for them without knowing what their best life is going to be. 

Some days I (and mothers all over) handle this pressure with grace and other days we crumble (albeit silently) and hope that no one notices.  Through all of this pressure, I have had the good fortune to be surrounded by supportive people. My husband has been the most supportive and encouraging individual in my life these last 9 weeks.  He has watched me cry hysterically for no good reason, cry for very good reasons and muster up the strength and patience to get up ONE MORE TIME in the middle of the night just to place a pacifier back in their mouths.  My family and Ethan's family has never once made me feel less than amazing.  They are here both physically and mentally as I take on each day.  What has caught me off guard more than anything (and I should be ashamed at what little faith I have in people) is the outpouring of Mom Support from long lost friends, acquaintances and sometimes total strangers.  Their comments on facebook, blogs that they share and random text messages come through in times when nothing else seems to work.  It is a constant reminder that we are in this together.  We cannot be in the business of tearing each other down but build each other up. 

This shit is hard.  Real hard.  And no body told us it would be this hard...