Wow. It has been so long since I have written anything that I forgot my password for my blog platform.
I have no real explanation for my absence except that moving out of one house, moving into a new house, showing and selling an old house and setting up a new house have taken up so much time and energy.
And then you add in the end of the school year? Field trips and awards ceremonies and graduations and art shows. It’s intense.
But here we are. Here I am.
I came here without much of a plan of what to write about. I just knew that if I didn’t write again soon, I may never get back to it.
Yesterday, I received a message on Facebook from a former preschool student’s mother. I don’t know her much beyond what I would see in the drop off and pick up line at the preschool or on Facebook now that they have moved out of state. She messaged me to give me such a sweet message of encouragement and appreciation for my writing and authentic glimpse into my motherhood. She said that my Facebook posts, which often show the chaos and reality of life as a mother of 4, helped her feel not alone in her life, also as a mother of 4.
This was such a touching compliment because if I can be anything, I want to be authentic. And that message she sent me was just the push I needed to keep going, keep writing, keep sharing, keep putting myself out there.
So one truth I haven’t shared yet (well this escalated to 6th grade slumber party games quickly, huh) is that when we moved into our new, sparkling, beautiful dream house that we labored over in one way or another for 3 years — I felt depressed. WHAT? I know.
Yes. Depressed.
Cleaning out our home of 7 years was more gut-wrenching than I thought it would be. Leaving behind memories of our children at certain ages and milestones in our lives that we can never have back was tough. Painting over smiley faces they drew on their bedroom walls and taking down our photographs and making it look like a busy family of 6 didn’t live there was really sad to me. It should have been exciting. I should have been tap dancing my way out of there. A lot of emotions gripped me, but none of them were the ones that I thought I would be feeling.
This led me to immense guilt. How dare I not be excited for this new chapter in our lives after I wanted it so badly? How dare I not be thrilled to change our address after we dreamed about it for so long?
I guess I just didn’t see it coming. It was such a highly anticipated event in our lives, and when the time finally came, I didn’t feel the way I thought I would. My brain never ceases to surprise me.
I am slowly getting there — to that place where this place feels like home and the other home feels more just like a house that we used to live in. Rugs and pillows and soft lighting helps. Filling our home with family and friends and new memories helps. But really — time helps. That’s the one thing I know to be true from all I have experienced before, that with time, tough things get easier. I just get really impatient.
My reason for writing this is for you. Just in case you ever have thought you were going to feel one way about a really big, important event in your life, but you actually feel a completely different way — it’s ok. I want you to know that I think it’s ok. You’re not weird or crazy or ungrateful or selfish. I’m no expert to be able to say that, but I do know that suppressing emotions or bottling them up or telling yourself not to feel a certain way is never helpful.
I remember after having Noelle, even though in my heart I was over the moon and so in love, I cried in the shower everyday for two weeks. I know that my hormones were a large part of that and the crying stopped well within the typical “baby blues” time frame, but I couldn’t believe how sad-lonely-scared I felt following the birth of our first child. A child who came after a miscarriage. Shouldn’t I be on top of the world? Shouldn’t I not be able to wipe the smile from my face? Am I a bad mom? Through talking with others, and through prayer, and with time, it got better.
So in case you struggle with the same thing — with thinking you should feel one way but you actually feel another, please know that I am with you.
I am asked often if we are “feeling settled yet.” I usually laugh politely and jokingly roll my eyes with a response of, “Almost!” The real answer is each day, we are getting closer. With each box we unpack, it feels less transitional. With each breakfast we eat at the bar top or dinner we enjoy around the table (albeit a large folding table for now), it feels warmer. With each birthday party or holiday celebration, it feels more welcoming. With each first & last day of school photo on the porch, it feels more permanent. But when that first smiley face is drawn on the bedroom wall? That’s when it will feel like home.
