SOME DAYS ARE HUNGRIER THAN OTHERS

While pregnant, there are days when I am ravenous. I awake hungry and never seem to fill. I grow shaky before lunch and can’t suppress the need for a snack before bed. I run a hand along the curve of my belly, where my baby is growing steadily. My body is a vessel, and I am less in control of it than ever before. I cannot know why there are days my body demands more food, or feels sick, or leaves me exhausted. I can only trust the signals it sends me for rest or nourishment, understanding that miraculously, though I have no conscious part in it, my body is developing and sustaining a human being.

Some days, my emotions are more in flux as well. In the morning I may weep in the shower over a dream I had only to beam at my husband across the dinner table when our son does something adorable, floating on blissful love for them both.

Many days pass as though nothing is different, my body taking the changes in stride and not nagging me with any strange sensations. I have to take each day as it comes, simply accepting this: whether it be physical or emotional, some days are hungrier than others.

I find it necessary to remind myself of this truth often. All my life I’ve been a more easily emotional person, and though it’s currently nice to blame the pregnancy hormones, I have to admit it can also be an easy excuse. It’s akin to saying the fault lies with Mercury being in retrograde or waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Even when an external mechanism is effecting me, such as a sad podcast or disturbing news story, my reaction is stirred up from something which was already inside me.

When possible, I believe it’s helpful to try and trace the root cause of the less-than-ideal frames of mind, trying to understand why I feel alone when I’m not, overwhelmed rather than energized, anxious instead of motivated, or irritated and pessimistic instead of patient and loving.

Sometimes I can follow the trail of breadcrumbs back to the source. Yet sometimes, unexpected feelings are just there. I see this in myself, and I certainly see this in my toddler, who doesn’t yet possess the understanding for why some days he has epic meltdowns and tantrums over seemingly trivial, fixable things. Even if I know (or can at least guess at) what is bothering him and could offer him an explanation, he’s too young for this to help. When we’re both feeling frustrated and tired, the best I can do is remember how small he is and how new so many things are for him.

“I know,” I murmur to him, “It’s hard being a tiny human sometimes.”

His brain is processing so much as his body grows and develops. He can sense goals which will take persistence to reach, and learning patience while trying and trying again is not an easy part of the journey. I’m sure there are days for him when it just feels like too much. There are so many things to learn, so many choices or, as he gains the desire for autonomy, not enough. Too many growing pains or moments when he isn’t getting my full attention. He doesn’t yet have the tools to express what is bothering him and why, so it bubbles out in tears and thrown toys and needing me there even when he pushes away. In those times, he doesn’t need a root cause explanation. All he needs is for me to be a rock for him; calm, soothing, and distracting. His lighthouse in the storm.

Helping him regulate his emotions is a bigger part of parenthood than I’d known. It’s also made me realize how easily my emotions become tethered to his. When he’s fussy and is difficult to comfort, rejecting his usual favorites, I feel dejected. It’s easier for me to be happy if he is happy, elated just to see him eating, playing, and sleeping well. Truthfully, I’ve always had my emotions enmesh with those I’m close to, such as my husband or past roommates, and it’s always been difficult for me to step back and untangle myself. I have a desire to be the fixer, the one who can make things better. When I’m able to fix things? Victory! My purpose on earth is clear! When I can’t? Failure. I’m no good. I’m just in the way.

My husband knows this about me and will gently remind me at times, “You can’t fix this and it’s okay.”

Hearing this affirmation is soothing. It may be frustrating to not find an inspiring solution, yet I am comforted to know this: sometimes, just being present is more than enough.

Just as I can be present for those I love, I can also simply be present for myself. I can let myself cry without having to have a detailed story for why. Sometimes, it’s more cathartic to simply feel what we feel, soaking in it and letting it work through us. My body signals what it needs: sleep, activity, tears, or laughter. A warm embrace. Presence and peace from others and from myself.

With grace, I must accept the life’s mysteries. Some days are bright and happy. Some are grey and sad, yet those days help me appreciate the cheery ones all the more. Some days brim with an easy satisfaction and contentment. Some days are hungrier than others.