Tuesday

Bella was born on a Tuesday. 3 Tuesdays ago. I wonder if Tuesdays will always be this hard. She was also born on the 30th. Maybe eventually only the 30th of each month will be hard. And maybe a long time from now, only August 30th of every year will be hard. But for now it is Tuesdays.

Emotionally, I have been pretty good lately. Last Friday, the funeral home delivered Bella's remains to us. I had dreaded that since we first met with them to discuss our arrangements. I thought that the sight of her tiny, beautiful pink box, engraved with her name and birthday would break me. But it didn't. I felt strangely at peace about it. Almost as though it provided a sense of closure. Things were going well. Then I woke up this morning and realized it was Tuesday.

Although the emotional highs and lows have definitely been difficult to say the least, the thing that has been the most frustrating to me is the SLOW physical recovery. Although my emotions were pretty smooth this weekend, I feel as though I have taken steps backward physically. Even though the kids were gone for a couple of days, I still spent a majority of my weekend resting on the couch or napping. To say I am "tired" is a huge understatement. I feel DRAINED. My belly seems more sore than it did last week. And I have been having really bad cramp-type pain. Like, stop-my-conversation-and-breath-through-it type pain. I will definitely be calling my doctor today to make sure it's not out of the ordinary. But it is frustrating. I hate being unable to do things. I hate sitting in my house and looking at my disgusting dirty floors and knowing that I shouldn't clean them because it will zap any energy I might have built up. I hate that my clean laundry is still sitting on top of my dryer getting all wrinkly. I know that all of this is just part of having a c-section--it will just take time. I just feel like if I were busy nursing a baby and getting up all during the night and changing 87 diapers a day, the tiredness and lack of productivity would make more sense.

True to form, God showed his sense of humor again this morning. As I was typing this, worrying about my dirty floors, I heard a strange sound coming from our powder room. When I went to investigate, I learned that my recently-potty-trained 3-year old had gone to the bathroom, decided he was big enough to wipe himself (with half a roll of toilet paper), and had overflowed the toilet. I closed the door, cleaned him up, finished my cup of coffee, and started to have a pity party. Then I heard God's voice, "well, you said you needed to clean your floors!"  Ha! I'll have to be careful what I wish for. :) My son camped out and watched while I tried to figure out how to work the plunger (i know, it's not that hard, but I had never done it!) and clean the floors. When I got the toilet to flush, he exclaimed, "Hooray Momma! You saved the day! I'm so proud of you momma, you are such a good cleaner!"  He may never know how much that meant to me in that moment. If you have to unclog a toilet, you might as well have a cheering section while you do it. :)