When it's hard

I'm in the midst of some of the most trying weeks of my life. I'm going on four months now with one hand's worth of chunks of sleep greater than 4 hours. I'm working at least one day of every weekend this quarter save one, and many of those weekends, it's both days, or worse, both nights. My husband is working more than 40 hours a week in a traditional schedule for the first time since we've met. And in the midst of it all, I'm trying to keep up with the laundry, the cooking, and the shopping, not to mention some semblance of physical activity, spiritual discipline, or creative work. Many days it feels like I'm a failure on all fronts.

And in times like this, it's easy to resent the main reason why life is so hard right now. It doesn't feel okay to say it, but today, and other days, it's true: I resent my daughter. I resent the fact that her neediness means I almost never remember to brush my teeth in the morning, or that I burn half the things I cook, and the other half sit cold on the table until I have time to eat, or that I have no time to decorate our house into a home (or complete any of the dozen other projects I keep tucking away). I resent the changes in my body that bear witness to her existence. I resent the loss of autonomy, of freedom, of rest, of spontaneity. I resent that I only have 10 minutes to write because this is the 7th time today I've tried to lay her down for a nap, all without success.

And I resent the fact that I resent her. I know it's not always butterflies and sunshine, but I should have the heart to struggle. I should be able to look past the pain to the gift. Past the cross to the Resurrection. But today I can't. I don't have an answer, or a solution, or a quaint Bible verse to make it all okay. Today it's just hard to be a mom.