I have a really hard time knowing what to do. Everyone looks to me and my mother's heart to know the right answers to things. Like, do you think he's hungry? why do you think he's crying? I feel like I should be able to answer these with ease, and FIX THEM.
There are times that I can hear it in his cry. Or I can notice his body language. He's hungry, or tired.
But then there are those times. Those times when all needs have been met, where nothing...absolutely nothing consoles him.
This to me is the biggest test of my patience (which is not my best quality). Seriously, how do I know what to do?
My husband looks at me, while I'm frustratedly venting on him (with the background noise of a wild banshee being tortured). He says, "What does your heart tell you to do?"
My heart tells me, that I'm not cut out for this. I did not know that code deciphering was in the job description of a mom. What if I pick him up too soon and he realizes that when he cries, he gets what he wants? But he's still so young, does he really know what's going on. Is it too much to let him cry for hours? What if I can't stop it? What if what he needs is sleep and my picking him up every half hour prevents him from sleeping? What if it's something really wrong and I just am blind to it?
Oh if only they came with instructions and everything was clean and clear and simple.
I also feel a lot of guilt for my frustration.
I think I'm a good mom. But after hours of inconsolable crying, I start feeling...well like he's out to get me. Horrible I know. I have to remind myself that he's just 7 months, he doesn't know what he's doing. But sometimes I just want to scream, "What is wrong with you? Don't you know I'm doing my best?"
Several days ago, I was feeling alone, and beyond frustrated. After several hours, I called several people to see if they could take him off my hands for a few hours. I just felt helpless and like for the best interest for both of us, I needed to just get away to cool my head. Noah did that for me, and even though nothing that I wanted to do worked out, just simply sitting in my car and hearing...nothing, did wonders.
I keep telling myself...I am a good mother. I know I am. But then the guilt creeps in...the insecurities...and I just wonder if there is something wrong with me and my ability to calmly make decisions.
I truly believe that God gave me this job and he promises never to give more than we can handle. He has created me for this, and my whole life has been preparing me to be Barclay's mother.
I will say that the out of controlness of the situation has caused me be broken and to see my horrible sin and my need for a savior even more than ever before.
Also, the love I feel for that screaming little banshee, has shown me just a glimpse of God's love for me.