Back around Thanksgiving, I went to therapy. During the hour with my therapist, I crumbled beneath all the things that life was throwing my way. I was tired. Stressed. My therapist was incredibly worried about how little sleep I had been getting. Shortly after we moved into our house, Olivia started sleeping with me. It has been her bed as much as mine for the last year and a half. I have talked in depth about this with my therapist. She has reassured me time and time again that as long as my sleep wasn't being disrupted that sharing with Olivia was just fine. And it had been fine. I slept great with her beside me. In fact, it was a comfort just as much for me as it was for her. But recently, I hadn't been sleeping well. Olivia squirms and kicks, waking me several times in the night wanting water or to talk to me about what she wanted to do the following day. During my therapy session prior to Thanksgiving, I was given the task to get Olivia to sleep in her own bed. It was my homework. That afternoon I went home and explained to Olivia that she was going to sleep in her own room. I prepped her as best as I could knowing that we were in for a long night. And I was right. Olivia got up at least 30 times that first night. So many tears...and not just from her. After that first night though, she started getting better and better about staying in her room.
I thought I was ready for Olivia to sleep in her own room. Sharing a bed with her meant I was never alone. It meant I couldn't wake up before her. It was not having a space of my own. I thought an empty bed would be a sense of freedom. Ultimately, it made the loneliness I feel even more intense. I have only slept by myself a handful of times since Matt passed. Now with Olivia in her own bed, it is a vivid and hard visual reminder that I am alone.
I thought I was ready for Olivia to sleep in her own room. Sharing a bed with her meant I was never alone. It meant I couldn't wake up before her. It was not having a space of my own. I thought an empty bed would be a sense of freedom. Ultimately, it made the loneliness I feel even more intense. I have only slept by myself a handful of times since Matt passed. Now with Olivia in her own bed, it is a vivid and hard visual reminder that I am alone.
Olivia sleeping in her own room didn't mean there was peace and restful sleep for the three of us. In fact, it meant quite the opposite. Along with sleep training Olivia, I had been mounded by financial stress that I haven't ever experienced. Prior to marrying Matt, I lived at home. When we got married, he took over the duties of paying bills and making sure everything was set and secure for us. And he did a great job. What I didn't learn, since Matt handled everything for us, is that finances can have highs and lows. I also didn't realize the amount of pressure I would feel running a household entirely on my own. I kept getting hit with large bill after large bill: filing taxes, a crappy painter getting undeserved pay, a huge vet bill, stitches when Rylan cut my finger, and now the stress of preparing for the holidays. The list of financial stress is long. Add to that having to find a new health insurance plan only to realize that it would cost more money and having to find a new doctor, etc, etc, etc. Thankfully, I have the guidance of a financial advisor. We recently met and he comforted me with where things are at. He told me that everyone blows their budget from time to time. He helped set up a plan and made me feel (almost) entirely better.
Olivia finally found a rhythm and comfort for sleeping in her own bed. My meeting about my finances should have made me feel so much better. And then...Rylan got the flu. Every night he would wake up sometime around midnight, crying. I would go into his room to find him and his crib covered in vomit. I would stick him in the tub, rinse his sheets out, get laundry started, rock him back to sleep, and get back to bed an hour or so later. And then he would do it again. And again. This pattern went on like that for a week. Nighttime became dreaded. Even when I was sleeping, I was waiting for the sound of him crying to wake me. Knowing the crying signaled more vomit. Rylan's flu didn't just mean that he and I didn't sleep. It meant that his curious sister would wake up wondering what was going on and if her brother was ok. It was the juggle of trying to get a sick baby cleaned up and back to sleep and coerce a three-year-old to get back in her bed.
It was during that week that I would sit in Rylan's room at night and sob. I would finally get Rylan comfortable and clean, I would look at the clock and realize how much sleep I was missing, and just cry. I was angry. I was worn out. I was stressed. I would sit there and tell myself that I didn't sign up for this. I didn't choose this. I married and had children with Matt with the intention of having a partner for life. I expressed this anger to my therapist recently and she asked me what Matt would have been good at when dealing with sick kids, finances, and long to-do lists. I told her how good he was at seeing what he could to do lighten my load. He didn't need to be asked or reminded. He saw where he could pull his weight and just did it. Whether it would have been laying in Olivia's bed with and getting her back to sleep, helping with Christmas shopping, hanging lights, or just saying "we are going to be ok." Matt and I were equals in our home. We shared the burdens and the triumphs. And now I struggle with how I manage it all on my own.
Single parenting is incredibly hard. I never knew the amount of pressure or stress single parenting would bring. It means always being on. Even if I do get away for a short time, it means that I have to be accessible and prepared should they need me. I've always been a busy homebody. What I mean by that is a busy myself during the day. Running from activity to activity and keeping us out and about. But during the evenings, I like to be home. I like to sit in the quiet and reflect on the comfort and safety of my home while also recouping from the busy day. Being a homebody means I have to be diligent about getting out with my friends. And being a single parent makes that even more of a challenge.
Everyone I know, everyone I socialize with, has a husband. So when a girlfriend asks if I want to get together for dinner, it means arranging a sitter. And even though my sitters are the grandparents, it still means challenges. If I happen to be out after the kids go to bed, most of the time I get home to find Olivia asleep on the couch waiting for my arrival. Or if she is in bed it means that she cried before going to sleep wondering when mommy will be home. Being out also makes me feel guilty that I, their only parent, isn't home to tuck them in and say their prayers. I also feel guilty anytime anyone watches my kids for any reason which I know is something I have to work on. With Matt being gone, I put a ton of pressure on myself to be with them at all times. They are missing out on so much by not having a dad. I never want them to look back at their life and feel as though their mom was absent.
Rylan is now 20 months old, the same age Olivia was when Matt passed. Over the course of the last month, I have looked at him differently. I see all that his world encompasses, who he knows, what he likes, and what makes him nervous. I see all of his life and what Matt was able to experience with Olivia. And then I see her. I see Olivia at almost 4 and how much of her life has changed since we lost him. The milestone of Rylan hitting 20 months has been emotional for me because I wonder what Olivia grasped as her world was turned upside down. I look at him and wonder what must have been going through Olivia's mind in the days and weeks following his passing.
We are 10 days away from Christmas. A time of year that should be joyful and exciting has turned into a feeling of obligation. It is our 3rd Christmas without Matt and isn't any easier. In fact, there are new challenges that I see this year that I didn't in the years prior. The kids being older, more opinionated, and busier means it is harder to get out and shop. It is harder to be outside hanging lights since Rylan doesn't know where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. It requires all decorations being higher than 3 feet so things don't get broken. I know once Christmas is finally here I will be able to sit back and say that it all got done. I will see the excitement and magic through Olivia and Rylan's eyes. I will create new memories with my kids and our families while we all greatly miss Matt.
We are 10 days away from Christmas. A time of year that should be joyful and exciting has turned into a feeling of obligation. It is our 3rd Christmas without Matt and isn't any easier. In fact, there are new challenges that I see this year that I didn't in the years prior. The kids being older, more opinionated, and busier means it is harder to get out and shop. It is harder to be outside hanging lights since Rylan doesn't know where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. It requires all decorations being higher than 3 feet so things don't get broken. I know once Christmas is finally here I will be able to sit back and say that it all got done. I will see the excitement and magic through Olivia and Rylan's eyes. I will create new memories with my kids and our families while we all greatly miss Matt.
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