Last night was horrible. This morning has been even worse. Charlotte might as well be a newborn right now.
And I responded with anger, frustration, impatience, and sadness. I just lay in bed last night sobbing like someone died. So much so that my face began to tingle. Do you know the feeling?
And I wondered, do I have it in me? Am I even strong enough to last the 39 days without Jude and make it through with my sanity and with no regrets? I worry I don't. If last night and this morning is any testament to how I'll be the next month (given she continues to express her teething pains with crankiness and little sleep), I'll be a wreck.
Part of me feels silly that I'm reacting this way - it's only 39 days and I'll have help for most of it. People get by on way worse. And Jude's still here - I'm supposed be ok right now. Going crazy should be reserved for when he's gone - not me crying hysterically while he's still here and rocking Charlotte in the next room.
I so want to be strong. I don't want to make him feel guilty for going, or worried about me. But to give him a peace of mind now is like saying, (well it is to me anyway), "I'll be fine without you and I don't need you." And frankly, I do. I need him everyday, by my side. That's why we got married, isn't it? Because we were created to need and love one another. And from that mutual need and subsequent gift of ourselves to each other (which must be free, total, faithful, and fruitful), life is created in our children. (I know I could go way more Theology of the Body up on this, but I'll just leave it at that for now.)
So yeah. I'm a wreck now. But because love is sacrificial by nature, we only need to witness the cross to see this, I am preparing myself to sacrifice the ease and comfort that I'm accustomed to while Jude's gone. And if you read the comments from this post, you know that I have plans of offering this up for those single parents who carry much more than I've been asked to. God be with them. And with me. And of course, with Jude.