Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter*
The beast crept in while we were still in the hospital.
It saw it’s opening when every other person in the world held my baby rather than me.
It sneaked in as I encouraged Cort to hold him and snuggle each night in our hospital room, and it stuck to me as the nurse came and wheeled him out to the nursery as Cort left for the night.
It disguised itself as normal as I spent more than the allotted “normal” time crying about everything.
Then the baby started crying…screaming, rather.
And didn’t stop for three long months.
The beast wrapped itself around my brain and whispered in my ear that I was not enough.
That I couldn’t be what this baby needed.
The beast robbed me of my memories of the good times when the baby did not wail.
It put blinders on me so that I could not see myself learning to mother.
Rather, I began to believe that the baby would be better without me.
The beast moved into my chest and preyed on my heart.
It tried to tell me to leave this baby and my husband.
All I did was cry.
I was so mean to everyone.
I couldn’t even mother the baby right.
Why did I even try anymore.
As the beast had it’s way with my heart and mind, something kept me going…
kept me rocking in that chair with that tiny anger ball of an infant…
made me get up in the night and provide nourishment and love…
wouldn’t let me leave him to feel alone while he wailed…
something made me keep trying to be a mom…
something put a sheila over my soul…
Until I could get help.
And even now, in the days when the beast sits crouching in the corners of my mind,
and in the crannies of my heart…
someone shines a light on it so it scurries away.
Or at least reminds me that I am not helpless.
I can claw and scrap and kick at that beast.
I do not need to be passive.
When I think that I cannot,
his smile tells me I can, and I will.
He didn’t let me give up.
He made me fight.
If Charlie healed me, it’s because Eddie made me a fighter.
Already my sons are protecting their momma…
and they don’t even know it.
*lyrics from Fighter by Christina Aguilera
Where else I’ve been this week…
Thursday I guest posted at Naked Girl in a Dress…I Ain’t Afraid of No Teenagers.