Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Thad thinks its weird, but I rarely have dreams that I don't know are dreams. I always know when I'm in a dream and then I get to do fun things like float (way better than flying, ps). And when I'm having a bad dream, I can always wake myself up because I know I'm dreaming.
But last night I had one of those very rare dreams for me where I don't know that I'm dreaming and it feels super real. And basically, what was happening was that I was the world's worst mother. My baby hated me. She acted like she didn't know me, and it was definitely all my fault. I woke up hysterical and didn't go back to sleep for a very very long time.
Obviously, my baby doesn't hate me. I haven't even been given the chance to be a horrible mother yet. I guess I'm just having one of those days where I feel the chinks in my armor. I think I said it several months ago, on a similar day like this, where everything feels so overwhelming and the grass is greener everywhere but under my own feet.
Thankfully I've had all day to reflect, and in between vomits this morning and somewhere during my slow moving afternoon, I realized that here we are, always saying things like "God's timing is perfect" and here I am questioning my ability to be a mom.
God called me to mommyhood, not me. Not Thad. Who am I to have anxiety or question a perfect plan? I know that the feelings of anxiety I have had today will be confined to today and tomorrow will be back to normal--things like, what do I paint the nursery and "I hope he or she has your toes, not mine" and all the joy in those thoughts.
And on the counter in the kitchen this morning there was a card from Thad. My Thad. The utterly un-verbose husband of mine, who had covered every inch of this card with how great of a mama he thinks I already am.
God's timing is so, so perfect.