Every morning a similar routine. The baby wakes up to feed, then I take the baby for the morning so that my wife can catch up on sleep from the night before.
Every morning a similar routine. I take the baby to the living room, we play, we talk, we do tummy time, we listen to music, we have so much fun. In those moments I'm filled with the most joy I have felt in a long time. My world feels complete.
Every morning a similar routine. I take the baby up for their first nap. We bounce on the yoga ball, shush and soothe until the baby falls asleep. I sit outside of their room until the inevitable 5 min wake-up. I head back into the bedroom, rock and shush until they fall asleep again.
Every morning a similar routine. So similar that it has finally started to feel normal. So why was today so different? Is it because the baby slept in an extra hour? Was it because my wife and I watched an emotional T.V. show before bed last night? I'm not 100% sure. What I do know was that this morning was not so similar.
The morning started normally, other than the fact that it started an hour later. The baby woke up and ate, I took the baby to the living room and we played, talked, laughed. However, when it came time for the first nap, my typical morning became not so typical. The baby fell asleep just fine, it was me that was out of the normal. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of grief. While rocking the baby I broke down into a flurry of tears and emotions of fear, sadness, and dread. I held the baby closer to me, and for a much longer time than I typically do. They slept just fine.
I am writing this as my therapist says it is healthy for me to have an outlet when these types of things happen. A place where I can go back and look at my past. I am writing this as a way to keep a record of this feeling. It was strange to say the least, 20 minutes of pure, raw emotion overwhelmed my body this morning. I am writing this as a reminder to myself: The hard days are still to come.