The days are long...

We moved to the Hampton Roads area of Virginia in the summer of 2011. Everyone we talked to said to move to Virginia Beach, but we couldn't afford anything nice over there. On our short trip to look at houses, I fell in love with a little duplex right on the water in Portsmouth. Plus it was only five minutes from Mike's work--he just had to drive through the midtown tunnel and he was there (we would later learn that driving through the tunnel was not that simple). The neighborhood was A-MAZING (I would still move back there in a heartbeat). 

We had two little boys, 3 and 1, two cars, and we were in a great area. After living in small-town South Carolina, we were overwhelmed with all the amazing things to do in Hampton Roads. I had determined to put aside my introvertedness and meet people and get involved. I quickly made some good friends, got involved in a church, and found a good MOPs group to join. I loved being a stay-at-home mom. We were living the dream.

Things started to go downhill that next January when our SUV died in the middle of nowhere on our way home from visiting Ohio (that experience was a nightmare in itself). We were now down to one car. Since Mike worked second shift, getting out in the evenings was complicated. I had to start saying "no" to a lot of invitations I really wanted to say yes to. But at least we were still able to get out in the mornings.

Then we got our first surprise. I was ecstatic! I'd been hoping for an "accident" baby. I was much sicker this time than I'd been with the boys, and I ended up having to drop a lot more activities and say no to more invitations (although by now, the invitations were getting fewer and farther between). Since our duplex was so small and our electric bill was ridiculously high, we had to move to an apartment complex far from the water and 15 minutes away from Mike's station.  

When I think about that apartment, the biggest impression I have is darkness. We, obviously, only had windows on one side, and in the winter, the sun never shined in them. We got out as much as we could that summer, but once Katie Rose came along, we ended up staying inside a lot. It was hard to get a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old, and a newborn up and down the steep steps, and getting the car in the evenings just wasn't feasible. They'd started closing the tunnel almost every night to work on it. 

People would occasionally invite me to stuff, but they pretty much expected me to say no. Even if it was in the morning, one of the kids was usually sick. I spent almost all of every day in a dark apartment with three small children. I was lonely and bored and overwhelmed with guilt that they watched so much TV.

Then on Katie Rose's first birthday, we got our next surprise. I broke down in tears when I saw the positive test. I was already so overwhelmed, I truly did not think I could survive another baby. 

I was even sicker this time. Some days I couldn't get off the couch. I started getting looks and comments when I would take the kids out--didn't I know what caused this? I sure had my hands full. 

I frequently turned to Facebook to vent my feelings of exhaustion and loneliness. Some people commiserated and told me to hang on, it would get better. 

But, unfortunately, one phrase I heard a LOT was "the days are long, but the years are short" and  "enjoy this while you can, they'll be grown before you know it."

Enjoy THIS? I woke up every morning counting down the minutes to naptime. I craved five minutes alone. If I was supposed to be enjoying this, I must be doing something wrong. I must be a horrible mother because some days I just wanted to get away from my kids.

I know the words were meant to be encouraging (I guess?), but they just heaped more guilt on me. At night I would sit alone in the living room and cry because another day had gone by and I hadn't enjoyed my children. 

We moved to Texas 6 months after Lexi was born, and I hit rock bottom. I went through a really dark time, but I came out the other side better for it. I found out who I really am, and who God made me to be. And I found out that it's okay to be that person.

So I'm trying to tell lonely moms, you don't HAVE to enjoy this season. Being a mom of young kids is HARD and lonely, and some days you just want to run away, and some days you just want to cry. And that's okay. You'll get through it. Will you miss it? I don't know. To be honest, I don't miss my kids being babies. They're currently 9, 7, 5, and 3, and I love it. I still don't enjoy every day, and I still countdown to bedtime a lot of days, but those days are fewer and farther between. And I definitely don't feel guilty about them. 

I'd also like to say to everyone else, if a mom is venting to you about how hard it is having babies/young kids, please don't tell her she should be enjoying this time. Try to think of something more encouraging to say, like "this stage won't last forever," "it gets easier as they get older," "you're strong enough to do this," or "it's hard, but it's worth it." 

Labels

Nowadays there are labels for every personality type, preference, orientation, and anything else you can think of. People keep claiming to hate labels, but they keep coming up with more. I personally hate generalizations--I don’t like to box people into one label or category and assume that’s all there is to them. But I tend to find labels helpful, especially in understanding myself.

For example, I am an introvert. I had never even heard of such a thing until a few years ago, but once I read that first article about introverts, I immediately understood myself better. I have so many things to say, but I’ve always hated talking to people. When I was a kid, we just called that being shy. It was something to overcome. And I failed miserably at it. “Just talk to them!” My mom would say, “It’s not hard.” But it terrified me. Even though I could write for hours and email people novels, I just couldn’t make my mouth work. Turns out, a lot of people are like that. While I have learned to talk to people, I have never fully overcome the fear. I find excuses not to hang out with people because I can’t do small talk. Facebook is my dream come true--I can keep in touch with people without ever seeing them face-to-face.

Third Culture Kid is another label that helped me understand myself. I’m an American, but I was raised in Singapore. I lived in Singapore from the time I was 4 until I was 19 and left for college. I don’t fully fit in either culture so I’m what is referred to as a third culture kid, and I will be one no matter how old I get.

Possibly the most applicable label for me right now is that of Hidden Immigrant. When I lived in Singapore, I was obviously an immigrant. I was a blond-haired, blue-eyed kid who stuck out like a sore thumb. People would cross the street to touch my hair. I was asked more than once if someone could pull out some of my hair for a scavenger hunt. I was not expected to fit in. But in America, I look like everyone else. For the most part, I talk like everyone else. Everyone else expects me to think like them, to be fully American. But I’m not. I’ll never fully fit in even if I never leave America again. I am a hidden immigrant, always on the outside even while being on the inside.

And these are my thoughts….