You can't walk with a head full. Movement should get you 'out of your mind' but it seems like with every step I take a new thought in my head. Walking is getting harder and because of all the excitement I now look like an angry tomato. And that's not because of the physical effort. "Do this, that's also possible, oh no that's really not good, have you tried this yet?" When I look at myself, I sometimes feel like nothing. Self-criticism lurks like a cunning fox .
My youngest son was born almost six months ago. After a tough pregnancy but an easy delivery, he was there. A little mini-me, with dark hair. A lot of hair. How proud I was and how grateful I felt for this little boy. The weeks that followed were a mix of a pink cloud and a dark hailstorm that wouldn't blow over. Reflux was the bummer as you could have read before and medication was the only solution after 10 weeks of muddling through, not sleeping much and just trying to reassure that little sweet creature. And I now get the bill for those first 10 weeks.
And there I go with my head full, looking for who is under all that hoarded fatigue , frustration and adrenaline is also hidden. Along the way I try all the tension , question marks and let go of self-criticism † Walking, because it helps to go from my head to my feelings. And while I walk there, with that heavy full head in which my own drama film is set (sometimes enlarging your own hassle is so wonderful), I actually have to laugh too.
Who would have ever thought that getting a second miracle could turn into a potential self-analysis by dr. Phil. I imagine what I would look like on TV. Such a tired-looking mama with bags up to her knees, who bursts into tears at every question and apologizes because she really should only be grateful for her baby and not to whine. And if Dr. Phil then asks who is not allowed to do that, the only correct answer is of course:from myself † Even my own story is cliché but true. And his reaction is probably also the way it is:it's okay to feel bad and tired, bummed and need some time to recover. “It's not nothing at all.”
When I get home I see the gardener busy at the neighbors. "Are you having a nice day at home again?" he asks with that big smile as he drives a wheelbarrow full of stones out of the garden. I look at his strong arms. “Yes, and you are building some nice muscles again?” He smiles. "Even more?" he says. Chuckling, I turn and walk to the door where I see our nameplate. Four beautiful names of a beautiful family † That's what it's all about. That's why I want to endure the heaviest hailstorm with love.
I suddenly think of a walk with my oldest son. "Where is the sun?" I ask him. Only clouds can be seen around us, with a heavy downpour approaching further on. “Look mom, over there, behind. Behind the clouds. There is always the sun. He'll be right back.”
