My job right now is hard. Period. So many people are helping us and are willing to help. But the fact is that so much of what must be done right now can only be done by me.
Writing about it would be helpful to me. Writing is therapeutic. Writing helps me understand. Writing brings clarity.
But I don’t have time for writing. At this moment I’m supposed to be sleeping. So I’d better stop.
A few things first.
I miss my son. We don’t get to spend time together like we used to do. I’m sure it’s hard for him – notwithstanding all the wonderful other people with whom he’s getting to spend time, including his daddy. I am confident enough in my connection with him to say that it’s hard for him that I’m mostly absent from his daily routines now.
So yes, it’s hard for him. But it is also hard for me. Really hard today.
I wish I could have done a daily blog about post-partum recovery. All the ugly and gory details. Not that anyone would want to read it. But it’s a story that I think should be told. There’s somehow more acceptance – in my exhausted mind anyway – for stories about pregnancy and not so much acceptance or interest in stories about recovering from being pregnant.
Anyway. Enough said. I must sleep.