Motherhood is Ceaseless


We joined the Y last week. I have a suspicion that it’s the answer to a lot of my husband’s prayers, the ones we don’t say together. The ones where he asks for free time, which he deserves, but this season of infant twins and not seeing the outside world has my empathy on E.


One of his biggest fears about having 3 kids was that he wouldn’t have any time for the gym and would lose weight (I repeat, he’s afraid of losing weight, where can I sign up for this man stuff).


So when God answered his prayer of continued physical fitness, made possible by on-site childcare, I was happy for him. We got a family membership and I feigned excitement because I knew the truth, I wouldn’t be getting much use out of it.


But then it was my turn to see what all the hype was about. And the universe chose this day, this blessed day that I was to experience a postpartum workout that didn’t consist of 2 sets of lunges and poor form squats in my living room. The kind of workout that does more harm than good, just long enough to remind you how out of shape you are, but not long enough to do anything about it. Spirit breaking, really. THIS once in a lifetime day to remind me about where I stand with my eldest.


So there I was, doing something my husband calls supersets. And I was feeling myself. I could only barely see my cellulite through my workout pants and the songs Pandora was playing weren’t terrible. I had just finished texting him to 1) ask how to do a superset again and 2) find out if the babies were asleep (because the micro-managing never stops) when the childcare worker bursts in telling me my daughter was a “little bit sad” - which was kind of her, because when I got to my girl (25ft down the hall and to the left) she wasn’t a little bit anything. There she was in the middle of the room wailing at the top of her lungs and beet red. Shouting about me leaving her.


Was I touched? Yes, remember I am #NotTheFavoriteParent. But I was also confused because my husband (her beloved) has successfully dropped her off and COMPLETED workouts. No interruptions to speak of. I should have expected this though, motherhood is ceaseless; and if I’m being honest, I feel like somewhere in assembly the pause button got left out, while fatherhood is fully equipped with this special feature. In my experience, they have the ability to disconnect for workouts, football games, and middle of the night feedings.


But I’ve been asking God to heal my relationship with my daughter, to reconnect us after a mostly bedridden pregnancy and the distraction that twins have brought. I guess I should have been more specific and told him to hold the healing until after I workout.

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