Seven months later.

Yes, this is an entry about Coco, but the above photo is most fitting. This has been a tough month filled with ups and downs. It has been... filled. At this exact moment I am filled to capacity. Swim lessons, back and forth to discovery school, physical therapy, my own need to exercise, cooking, keeping up the house, two blogs... its all a lot, and its all the time. If I'm not physically doing something for one of the kids, Im thinking about them, worrying about them, consumed by them. And yes, this is motherhood, and Im not special. I dont love my kids more than other mothers do, and I know every mother has their own set of worries and consumption, but this month has just been a lot.
Coco started therapy last month. At the beginning of it, she couldn't stand, sit, had very little ability to do tummy time, and now a month later we have made some major strides. She is standing on her legs, and almost sitting on her own (with some tumbles of course). Her therapist name is Martha, and she has been wonderful in every way. Both helping Coco physically, and me emotionally. Reminding me that everything is not a therapy exercise, and to try and enjoy Coco at this age just for being who she is. That is the hardest part. Here I have the most adorable wonderful easy baby on the planet, and I want to remember her as such in a few years. I don't want to think back and remember having to go to therapy with her, making sure she was doing her exercises, blah blah. It is this strange lesson in finding a way to accept and embrace what is, while simultaneously doing every possible thing you can for your child. When I'm not with her I feel guilty, counting the minutes I could be helping her. When I am with her there are moments of frustration, and moments of victory. And of course, as every mother does, I have somehow gotten myself involved in this whole thing. Did I do something in pregnancy to cause this? Could I be doing more to help her? It is very hard. The whole thing is trying, and very hard to keep in perspective. I wish I could see a year into the future, know if and when she will catch up to her friends. How this will effect her, if at all, in her adult life. And then there is Isaac who is so patient, and kind to her. I do everything I can to make sure he gets just as much attention, but is the time I need to spend with her, practicing her tricks, taking away from him and his needs.
And so there you have it, my stream of thought as of today. There are good days and bad days, but every single day I am reminded of the beauty of both of my children, so different in their own worlds, so independent and strong. Truly I am just an advocate for their needs. They both do all the hard work on their own.
So how do I cope? Other moms. My world, my love, my friends. They are the ones who understand what I am going through, the ones who offer the most amazing sound advice, and the ones that continue to talk me down from the ledge. They can look at me, and within a moment know what is bothering me, without my having to say so. They are each so beautiful and so poignant, and I am so lucky to have found them. As my tiny circle of friends has grown this year, I have been reminded of the power of motherhood. The bond mothers have with one and other. As I was driving to pick up Isaac yesterday I thought to myself, I imagine this is what soldiers feel for each other, and veterans years later. Only a mother knows what it is like to be on this journey, and there is a quick and easy bond that forms amongst the moms you connect with. To each of my dear mamas, who I love with every bit that I am, I thank you for the support I feel not only when I am with you, but when I am very alone. You jump start me when I am stalled out, and fuel me to keep things going. I look forward to every moment I get to be with you and your kids, and am so excited to watch them all grow up together.
Coco will be fine. She will thrive and me sassing me up in no time. And when I look back at this time in my life, I will think back to her beauty, her courage and strength, and then I will remember my glorious matriarchs, for whom without, motherhood would just not be possible.