I don't like to think of myself as a quitter. The core of my personality is a relentless barracuda (charming picture right?). But some days it all just seems too much and the thought of throwing in the towel sounds so easy....
During my first marathon in DC I was separated from my running partner. It was around mile 16, I still had 10 to go and I was fucking dying. My legs hurt, I could barely breath, I was mentally and physically drained.
I remember running thru Arlington and every person I passed kept chanting "You got this", "You are almost finished." I imagine that, at that point, my face was frozen in a rigor mortis of pain. I must have looked scary to all those spectators! All I wanted to do was lay on the ground and give up. Then before I knew it, I was at mile 25 and so close to finishing.
When I finally crossed that finish line, I sobbed like a baby. Then a week later, I decided to run another marathon the next year. No way was I going to let one marathon crush me!
I can still vividly remember that night 3+ years ago when I gave birth to Max. I had been in labor since noon and it was closing in on Midnight. My epidural had given up the ghost and I was in excruciating pain.
I remember looking at Scott and telling him that I couldn't do this. I couldn't possibly give birth to this enormous baby boy. I was sobbing. I was 100% ready to throw in the towel and be pregnant for the rest of my life.
Then my doctor walked in, told me to suck it up and push that baby out. I screamed like a banshee but I did it. When they put that beautiful, 9 lb Thanksgiving Turkey in my arms, I wept tears of joy. I still can't believe that I did that and I am in awe of how beautiful he is.
Today was one of those days. We are in week two of our third daycare and already I can see the problems. Max has behaved really badly the last two days and today I had to pick him up early. I was driving to the daycare and for a brief moment I thought that it would be so nice to walk away from these problems. Trust me, I am ashamed to type this. To utter aloud those thoughts.
I spent 9 months growing this child. I have raised him virtually on my own for three plus years. I solely support him. I have given him my everything. I have had countless sleepless nights worrying about his care, his development, his lack of gluten free snacks, his fucking sippy cups. To throw in the towel now is not something I would ever do. But for that brief moment, it flitted thru my mind.
But I like to think of myself as a problem solver. Or even better, a kick ass, karate chopping, problem solving ninja. I know that no matter how this plays out, I will find a solution. I am not a quitter and Max is my biggest accomplishment. I refuse to let a small bump in the road derail everything.
No one ever said parenting was easy. It is fucking hard. Every day they challenge you. Test you. Push you to your absolute breaking point. But you have to believe that at the very end, when you are old, that they will be sitting next to you. Because they are your best friends and the true loves of your life.