The Last Night

Updated: Jun 25

Last night was the night. The one that broke me.


It was a good day. Brett rode to therapy with me, we went out to lunch, we enjoyed time as just him and I. We went to the ball field and he worked on teaching me how to throw and catch a ball. Yes, I know I’m 26, let’s not judge.



We spent a good majority of the rest of the day and evening with two of our good friends grilling, kids playing, around a bonfire.


The dudes stepped away and I ended up having yet another breakdown with my girlfriend. Luckily she’s the super understanding type and didn’t send judgement my way.



I’ve seen my therapist two different times now without being able to come home and regain my patience with Alvi. She’s always on her top game for everyone else, and I just never seem to get a reprieve from her while with her.


I don’t feel like I have my prickly skin on, my insides feel at peace, calm, relaxed. My head is fairly clear. My sleep department is always lacking, and we‘re working to find a solution, because none of us can go on without sleep.


Most everyone I know or I’ve talked to has never seen Alvi at her worst. The way I see her from the time we get up, until the time we get up again the next morning. She rarely ever ceases, and the judgement I get from others playing it off as I’m exaggerating or just unable to handle my child gets extremely difficult. I’m a good mom, because I give it my best every single day. It may not always be a great day, but I still try. I still work so hard to be who I want to be for these babies.


I’ve attempted to explain my feelings to Brett, and I never feel like I have the right words. I’m tired, exhausted, and I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t have the energy or willpower. Nothing ever seems to go the right way, and yes, I still use all my might to focus on the good.



Alvi hardly lasted a couple hours in her crib. I brought her to bed and she screamed and wailed and cried. It wasn’t ending. Brett tried to no avail to take her and let me sleep, but she continued and only got worse for him. He brought her back and for at least another 2 hours she screamed and fought and nothing soothed her.


I couldn’t handle it anymore. I had nothing left. I did the only thing I could and I put her back in her crib (in our room), and I got back into my own bed. At least another hour went by before she stopped and finally gave in to sleep.



The entire time she continued to scream, I was talking to God. Not the usual “give me strength“ though. I cried and I cried and I cried some more. I can’t take it anymore, I can’t do this anymore. I’m not strong enough. I need a break. I need her to stop. I need her to be different. I need things to change. I begged and I pleaded to no avail. I didn’t wake feeling any different today. I’m still just as lost as I was to start with.


I‘m tired of never being able to get ahead, to have peace with Alvi, to feel like someone out there cares, that I’m not alone. She’s our rainbow baby, so how can I possibly feel this so lost and distraught over a baby that came after a loss, a baby that I prayed so hard for. The pain and frustration is conflicting every single day, and I don’t know how to fix it.


I asked for help and I got nowhere. I wish I hadn’t asked. I wish I hadn’t accepted the help. I wish, I wish, I wish. I’m more stuck than I’ve ever been. There doesn’t seem to be a way out of this rabbit hole. It’s never ending and so, so dark.


I‘ll be okay, I always am. I keep fighting another day, I keep pushing and persevering. I don’t always do it with grace and my faith doesn’t always keep me grounded.

As someone who has faith, you’re not really supposed to question it, let alone tell people you feel that way.



Read your Bible more. Pray more. Go to church more. You’re not doing it right.



Wrong.



Everyone’s journey is different. Some of us are okay admitting to struggling. Others feel like they’ll be damned for it. The greatest thing, though, is that only God can judge any single one of us. Every day I wake up and I become less afraid of judgement, of not being enough, of feeling like I’ve failed.



If I’m growing everyday, that’s the only thing that should matter. I’m striving for better. I’m not just sitting on the rocks waiting for better, I’m standing on my feet taking steps. Sometimes little baby steps, but they still count. I’m still on my way. I’m still going to conquer my demons.


All I can do is keep getting up every day, and fighting to find the will to make it just one more day. Maybe tomorrow is the day everything falls into place. Maybe tomorrow is the day good things come.


Tomorrow.


There is always hope for tomorrow.



19 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All