2 kids are harder than 1

I have honestly struggled to even know what to blog about this week.  Mainly because I have been swimming in throw up and poop all week (TMI?) on top of a very emotional toddler and a baby I'm starting to suspect might have colic.  It was my first week as a "single mom"- meaning Ben finally had to go back to work and all of my visitors are gone.  Flint and I both got sick with whatever is going around (thankfully it was only a 24 hour bug for both of us) and Dorothy is just figuring out life I suppose.

Dorothy cried for 6 straight hours 2 nights ago until 3 AM.  And I will admit that my emotions got the best of me.  "Why did I have another kid?" "This is definitely my last child" "Flint wasn't like this" "I hate being a mom" are all thoughts that crossed my mind... multiple times.  On top of feeling extreme guilt for breaking down, causing my sleep deprived husband to have to wake up and take the baby, even though he had to wake up in 2 hours and had just gone to bed a few hours earlier.  Did I mention this was also the night I was throwing up? Let's just say it wasn't a fun night for anyone involved.

But Ben somehow got her to sleep at 3 AM and then she slept for 5 hours, woke up to eat and then continued sleeping.  And somehow when she woke up, and I felt (kind of) rested, her sweet little face melted my heart and all was forgiven.  She had a much better night last night just in case you were wondering :) But I was so thankful because friends somehow knew I needed help. I had a friend come and drop by unexpected.  I'm sure she took one look at me and insisted on taking Flint for the afternoon.  But I was so grateful.  And another friend took him for a few hours today.  Once again grateful.

And it just reminded me of a talk given quite a few years ago (2006 to be exact) by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin called "Sunday will Come." I just looked it up and re read it and one quote that stuck out to me this time around was "But the doom of that day did not endure...no matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come." The Sunday he is referring to is Easter Sunday- the day the Lord was resurrected.  On Friday, the Lord was crucified and darkness consumed the world, but Sunday did come and hope and joy came again when he was resurrected.  Sunday always comes after any darkness and grief we may experience in this life.  

All trials suck.  But the one wonderful thing about them is that they do not endure.  They don't last forever.  As I woke up the next morning, the 6 hours of screaming had stopped and somehow we had all survived. I guess simply put, "this too shall pass." And it always does! And for that I'm grateful once again.  And being grateful in the midst of the trials, clinging on to the hope that it really will pass is what allows me to pull through, and even feel joy during them.  I'm beyond grateful for a husband who is willing to sacrifice sleep to take care of our baby.  Without complaining and without me asking him to.  I'm grateful for my Danville community of women who come to my aid like a family would.  And I'm grateful that screaming babies fall asleep eventually, even if it's not as quickly as I would like :)

Most of all I'm grateful for the perspective that the gospel brings to me.  Having an eternal perspective allows me to cope with hard things.  Remembering talks from conferences, scriptures I read, prayers I've said, etc. bring me peace when things get rough.  And it makes me grateful that I've stuck with my faith all of these years.  Makes me grateful that I listened to those talks, read those scriptures, and said those prayers because doing those things years ago helps me today. And doing them today will help me years from now.  That's why those little daily things are so important.  You never know what you'll need to pull out of your reserves years later.  Or days or minutes later.

So today, I choose to be grateful, even though having 2 kids is challenging.  And being sleep deprived is challenging.  And lots of other things going on in my life are challenging.  But being grateful and remembering that Sunday always comes keeps me going.  I've had many "Fridays" in my life, and the Sundays have always, always come.  Sometimes years later, but they came.  God has promised that and I'm going to choose to trust him.