It's Hard

I forgot how hard it is to have a baby.

I don't think I have to reassure any of you of how much I love her, because oh my goodness, do I love her.

But, man, is it hard sometimes.

It's hard when she's cried the better part of two days, and you have no clue why.

It's hard when she poops through her diaper and onto her clothes and no one is home to help you keep her feet out of it while you try to wipe it off your hands.

It's hard when you're walking around in a fog because you've gotten maybe four hours of sleep the night before (although, I probably shouldn't complain, because I actually slept in my own bed those four hours and not on the couch holding a baby. We are making progress in that department, slow though it may be.)

It's hard when your baby wants to be held. All. the. time.

It's hard when she won't really nap anywhere except in your arms.

It's hard when you have a panic attack over the fact that you have to go back to work in two months, and the thought hits you that you'll have to navigate your days on this little sleep.

It's hard when your husband is getting ready because he has to be at church tonight, and you're trying to clean up the kitchen, while your baby fusses, while your four year old spills her milk, while the dryer is beeping because the clothes are done, while the baby spits up, and you're stuffing bites of sandwich in your mouth as you run around taking care of each of these things (this may or may not have been me an hour or so ago).

Man, it's hard.