One Day: A Letter to Myself on the Days I Am Drowning.

One Day: A Letter to Myself on the Days I Am Drowning.It’s 3 a.m.  “Big” is in my bed–sideways, again.  I try and roll her over only to have her swing her arm into my face.

5:30.  “Little” roars like a dinosaur while running into the bedroom.  I try to quiet her by snuggling her, which only leads to both girls fighting over mom.

5:50.  Finally, I give up.  We all wake up and let their poor father back into the bed he had been forced out of.  My head pounds as they bombard me with requests for breakfast and whine over why we can’t open Christmas presents right this minute.

I try to make coffee.  Wreck-It Ralph has found its way onto the T.V. again.  I just want some quiet and to not be climbed on, asked of, pawed at.

I.am.done.

Two hours later I cry in the shower because it’s the only place I have relative privacy.  The weight of motherhood is crushing on days like these.  I’ve run on empty for too long, with my only “break” being a bout of food poisoning the day before.

I feel like I’m failing these sweet babies.

I’m failing my kids because I can’t be joyful and responsive 100% of the time.

I’m failing because I can’t keep the house clean to save my life.

I’m failing because I would give anything for a moment of peace right now.

But I know…

One day I will long for a full lap and the sounds of giggles.  But all I will have are sweet memories of the past.

One day my house will be clean and I will long to step over a rogue Shopkin or Lego.

One day it will be too quiet, and I’ll wonder when my kids will be home.

One day it will be me wanting their attention because they’re off doing their own thing.

One day I will long to tell them silly stories because they will think I’m the dumbest person they’ve ever met.

One day I’ll put away their clothes for the last time.  Do their hair for the last time.  Rock them.  Read to them.  Sing to them for the last time.

Dear Self,

One day you will long for these days where you are gasping for air in the choppy waters of motherhood.  These children have been entrusted to you.  You’ve spent your life praying to be a mother– their mother. 

When the weight of raising little humans is too much, I hope you remember that these years are so very short despite the days feeling so very long.  

Despite seasons like these, it’s ok to feel overwhelmed.  It’s ok to want a break and to need a break.  Raising children is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.  It’s made you confront your own demons and break generational curses. 

Bringing up these blessings is a high and holy calling.  High and holy callings are never easy, and they flush out your own junk.  Keep showing up, keep taking those breaths and holding your arms out to welcome your babies in.  Keep singing and being silly.  Keep being there.

Because one day, all you’ll have are the memories.  You want them to be sweet.
Press on.

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Missy Drzycimski
Missy is an Arizona native who migrated to Iowa on a whim and fell in love. She is a social worker by profession but stepped away from her career to be a pseudo-SAHM to her two girls: 8 year-old Selah and 2 year-old Mercy. She has been married for 10 wonderful years to her TV man husband, Andy, and Bo, the black lab pound puppy completes their family. Most days you’ll find Missy working part-time at a local non-profit, leading worship, and chasing after her children. In her spare time, she enjoys writing/composing music, connecting with other women who are also in the trenches of life, and finding time to get to the giant pile of laundry in the basement. Missy loves a good laugh, crime documentaries, coffee, and naps. She also writes about overcoming strongholds on her blog: Inching Toward Freedom

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