A Dose of Reality

Reality. It’s a funny thing if you think about it. You’d think that just based on the definition of the word reality would be one set thing--it’s either real or it’s fake. However, reality is just a bit different for everyone--or at least one could argue that it’s a bit different. For instance, the shirt that my husband wore to work today looked teal to me, but I wonder if it’s the same teal to me as it is to one of his co-workers. Puzzling. I didn’t begin this post to discuss how colors look different to everyone, what’s really on my mind is the reality of pregnancy and motherhood. (I can’t help it--pregnancy is on my brain, it’s kinda impossible for it not to be)

I think back to 5 years ago, right after Brian and I were married and the possibility of children was very real, and I laugh out loud. That was such a naïve person. She would wake up in the morning, look in the mirror and think about this perfect future. You know what I’m talking about. The perfect pregnancy, no aches and pains, the perfect amount of weight gain, absolutely no stretch marks, happy as can be, adorable in all those pregnancy clothes. You’re laughing out loud with me now right? Well the reality in my head was quickly shattered--my first pregnancy was FAR from ideal. Not only was it a bit of a surprise, but I was puking every day, and it ended in a miscarriage at 14 weeks. Pop! That bubble that I had made in my head was long gone.

However, even after the miscarriage I still had this idea in my head of the perfect pregnancy. Don’t worry, that was shattered quickly too. When I was pregnant with Eliza I was plagued with it all. I had acne, puking, aches and pains, tiredness, plus I got huge. I thought I was looking so cute, then I saw pictures of myself at my baby shower--woah! It’s funny how when you’re pregnant everyone always says “oh, you look great!” I guess it’s a triggered response, I mean what would happen if you were brutally honest? I could see someone getting their head bitten off. I think the bubble was shattered for good around week 32 when I spotted my first stretch mark. My poor husband. I think I screamed at the top of my lungs--and as he came rushing in the room (probably thinking I was in labor or something) I was pointing in horror at this tiny mark. They multiplied like the plague from that day on. ( I should have appreciated that bikini body when I had it)

Then comes the wonderful child raising. I’m sure they tried to warn me. I remember many times my mother saying “Oh I just can’t wait until you have children.” I think I understand that so much better now--and I haven’t even raised a teenager yet. For some reason when you’re holding that beautiful baby in your arms you think life couldn’t get any better. (If only they stayed that sweet and peaceful!) Instead the reality of it is that they throw tantrums, they have mini and mega freak outs, they are more stubborn then you can imagine, they have their own little personality, and they rely completely on you. It’s the most wonderfully frightening thing in the world!

I’ve become a much less judgmental person since I became a mother. I knew it all before I had kids--all you had to do is ask. (sometimes you didn’t even need to ask, because I’d let you know anyway) I’d like to argue that it wasn’t all my fault though, my sense of reality was skewed--as is a lot of peoples.

The other day we went to an indoor play place. I could barely walk because my back and groin hurt so bad from this child I’m growing. I was in a full sweat before we even got in the door. Eliza basically ran into the door while I was opening it. Jackson took off right as his feet hit the floor. He had purple socks on--because I just grabbed two pair as we walked out the door at home. Eliza just HAD to put her socks on herself--5 minutes later she finally let me assist her. When it was time to go I had chased Jackson down, tucked him under one arm like a bushel of potatoes and very gracefully wrestled with Eliza to get her shoes on--threatening her under my breath the whole time. I quickly brushed my hair out of my eyes, wiped the sweat that was pouring down my brow and proceeded to get the kids in the car.

Go ahead, laugh. It was probably a hilarious sight--I laugh thinking about it. That’s my reality. It’s not this picture perfect life that I had imagined up in my head 5 years ago, it’s just reality. At the end of the day, when I try to get comfortable enough to go to sleep at night, I thank God for every second of it. Even at the end of my real days I realize that all the craziness is one big blessing. My life would be pretty boring if it was how I imagined it would be 5 years ago. Instead I thrive in the madness--it’s the only way I’m going to survive. Children, or what I like to call little doses of reality keep life exciting.