Read this after your nap...
I was gonna reply to your post and tell you how everything will be okay and you won't feel this torn apart forever, even though right now it feels like you will because that's how torn apart you are.
But you took your post back like a Native American-giver!
So I'm forced to post to say: Everything will be okay.
That's the thought I think when things are bad. You'll note that it's couched in several disclaimers. First, that everything *will be* okay. As in, someday. As in, some unspecified moment in the future, the precise date of which I cannot say. Second, that everything will be *okay*. Not fabulous, not perfect, perhaps not even delightful. But okay. And okay is by far preferable to soul-suckingly sad. Also, I tell myself that *everything* will be okay, a term so expansive that I can almost always find something that was previously awful but is now simply suitable for use as a sardonically amusing anecdote and sometimes that's all the evidence I need that things are indeed looking up.
I can't know exactly how you feel or how traumatic this was/is/will continue to be for you because well, you know...(Insert pithy barren joke here). But I can imagine having a child and I think your heart gets so much bigger along with the rest of your body, but even once you lose all the weight and your ass gets down to a manageable size, your heart stays huge for the rest of your life and it just keeps breaking over and over every time your child is hurt or lonely or miserable. And I'm sorry that your heart keeps breaking, but if it didn't then you wouldn't be such an amazing mother.
So to sum up: everything will be okay; your heart is bigger than your ass; and you're an amazing mother.
And in the immortal words of Olivia Newton-John, I love you. I honestly love you.
But you took your post back like a Native American-giver!
So I'm forced to post to say: Everything will be okay.
That's the thought I think when things are bad. You'll note that it's couched in several disclaimers. First, that everything *will be* okay. As in, someday. As in, some unspecified moment in the future, the precise date of which I cannot say. Second, that everything will be *okay*. Not fabulous, not perfect, perhaps not even delightful. But okay. And okay is by far preferable to soul-suckingly sad. Also, I tell myself that *everything* will be okay, a term so expansive that I can almost always find something that was previously awful but is now simply suitable for use as a sardonically amusing anecdote and sometimes that's all the evidence I need that things are indeed looking up.
I can't know exactly how you feel or how traumatic this was/is/will continue to be for you because well, you know...(Insert pithy barren joke here). But I can imagine having a child and I think your heart gets so much bigger along with the rest of your body, but even once you lose all the weight and your ass gets down to a manageable size, your heart stays huge for the rest of your life and it just keeps breaking over and over every time your child is hurt or lonely or miserable. And I'm sorry that your heart keeps breaking, but if it didn't then you wouldn't be such an amazing mother.
So to sum up: everything will be okay; your heart is bigger than your ass; and you're an amazing mother.
And in the immortal words of Olivia Newton-John, I love you. I honestly love you.