The God of Rainbows and Wine

I've been debating whether or not this post should happen. It's not a fun one. But hey, they can't all be fun, right? I'm behind on updates and pictures and whatever. Maybe this weekend I'll catch up. But today this is Blog As Catharsis.

This week is not going well for Emma. And let's be honest, when Emma's not happy, no one's happy. She has a new daycare--and this is actually her first time in Real Daycare. You know, the kind with other kids. It's a small in-home daycare, so there aren't a lot of kids. But it's definitely new for her. And she's been with me all summer. And her last babysitter, you know, kind of kidnapped her for a few hours. So there's that. Also, the last few weeks we've tried church have not been fantastic. So I walked into Tuesday knowing that it would be hard. I had no idea. I mean, it was going to be a transition, to be sure. And at her age separation anxiety is already an issue. But seriously--while I knew it would be hard, I was not prepared for how bad.

And when I say bad, I don't mean "she cried when I dropped her off." I mean she screamed like someone was murdering her, and then continued to do so. For the rest of the day. Do you know how I know? Because the babysitter kept calling me throughout the day to tell me. Thankfully I did not have students on Tuesday. But the whole day was a blur of trying to focus on my job and trying to not completely break down.

Let me go ahead and close out the Mommy Wars: Going to work is worse. Hands down. Having those days when you think you might lose your mind because you haven't peed alone or talked to another adult in who knows how long is CHOCOLATE CAKE compared to being consumed with a shattered heart that keeps breaking over and over again every time you get another phone call or text. And I'll take changing that 342nd diaper over spending every breath fighting that relentless voice in your head telling you that you're a terrible mother who is abandoning your miserable and angry child. ANY. DAY. And I LOVE my job. I can't imagine the battle you wage when you have to go through all of that and work a job that makes you miserable.

Yesterday wasn't much better. Except that I told the babysitter she needed to communicate with Matt instead of me because I couldn't spend my entire day crying. Because of the teaching or whatever. So the day went a little better for me. My students seem like an amazing group, and I'm excited for the year. And the babysitter wasn't calling. But admittedly I was distracted. Because, you know, the babysitter was calling Matt to tell him that a) separation trouble is normal, and b) Emma's constant screaming was making everyone miserable (including her). Today neither of us heard from her, but apparently Emma's day today was the same as yesterday. And because that's not enough, Emma wouldn't sleep last night. The poor thing would not leave my arms for anything.

I know this is (fairly) normal. I know that she'll adjust. I know that I'm not a bad mom. I know that everything will be okay. But damn it if this isn't just about the most heartache I've ever felt. And that bastard Satan is unrelenting. God has been good, though. He has helped me keep the fear and guilt and anxiety and depression at bay. Other than a few moments when I hit a breaking point, I've held it together surprisingly well. Because really, it's not just that Emma's crying. It's that my mind and heart seem to be engaged in some kind of war of attrition. Apparently it won't end until there's nothing left of me. And I'm fighting, I am. And most of the time I'm winning. But seriously. This needs to end soon. Because this year was supposed to be different. This year was supposed to start off great. I was supposed to great the new year with alacrity and hope. Instead I'm clawing for survival.

But I don't want this post to end there. Because I'm fighting. With everything in me I'm fighting. I refuse to listen to the lies, and I refuse to abandon hope. And today God sent me a rainbow. Not the kind that comes at the end of the storm. The kind (and I'm not sure that this is physically possible, but it my metaphor it is) that is there when it's still pouring down rain. So I'm standing here soaked through with no abatement in sight. But there's still a promise. A promise that God is still there, still providing, still listening.This is going to be a long and hard road, but Emma will be okay. I will be okay. And one of these days I'll be able to post a blog that says, "Emma had a great day at daycare!" And I will kick anxiety and depression's ass so hard it will never come back.

So tomorrow is a new day. Maybe it will be good, maybe it will be ugly. Either way, God will still be there. And so will a glass of wine.