If you ask a mother, any mom you know, how she’s doing, she’ll say, “Fine.” You might get a “Good” or a “You know, we’re hanging in there.” You might even get a “Well, it’s been a little rough this week, but we’re doing okay.” 

That’s what she’ll say, that mom. Whether she works at home or in an office. Whether she staunchly believes in homeschooling or breastfeeding or no-sugar breakfast cereals…or not. Whether she has infants, preschoolers, tweens, teens or grown children. That is what she will most likely say.

But you should know, when she says that, it’s not what she means. Behind those words are so many things that she doesn’t say. 

What she doesn’t say is, “I’m tired.” 

Not just the “oops, I stayed up too late reading or watching TV” kind of tired. She’s the kind of exhausted that results in headaches and stomach pain. It’s an exhaustion that means she’s got no censors, that she can’t think of things to talk about, that she’s struggling to put coherent words together, even as she’s chatting in the lobby or over dinner. It’s a tired that comes from days, weeks, months, even years, of putting someone else’s need to sleep above her own. Whether she’s dealing with kids who are sick or scared, teenagers who are driving home late from the prom, or adult children whose marriages are falling apart, she stays awake for those much-loved ones. And she is tired. 

What she doesn’t say is, “I’m lonely.”

Sure, she goes to work, to the local mom’s group, story time at the library or the gym. Sure, she chats with her friends some, her husband some, her kids a lot. But she is lonely. It’s hard to really connect when she has to be constantly on guard about where her kids are or what they are doing. It’s hard to relax knowing lunchtime or naptime is a hard and fast deadline for any conversation she starts. It’s hard to feel part of the group when she hasn’t read a real book in ages. When all she has to talk about is poop or fourth-grade homework or when her kid didn’t make the team, the grade, the show that everyone else is discussing. That mom that you know? She wants to be seen again. She wants to feel like she’s part of something bigger than herself. Yes, she knows that parenting is like that, and most days she relishes it, but motherhood lacks clear rewards sometimes. It’s daunting, continuous, and there are no medals; there are few recognitions. There is just more laundry, more dinner to make, more “Hey Mom”‘s. She stays up to finish things while everyone else goes to bed, stays late while everyone else goes home, and sometimes, she just wants someone to go out of their way to SEE her. Because she’s lonely.

What she doesn’t say is, “I’m struggling.”

Sickness, angry outbursts, a broken lamp, a broken heart. They weigh on her, whether hers or her loved one’s. She wants to do the right thing, see her kids grow and become all they can be. And she doesn’t know how to admit that, after the umpteenth mistake yesterday, she heard the voice in her head saying, “You’re a bad mom.” That she is struggling not to believe that voice. Because she’s not a bad mom. She’s balancing a thousand things, juggling eggs (which she didn’t have time to hard-boil), and sometimes one falls. Sometimes they all fall. And she feels like a failure. She won’t say that. She can’t say that. But it’s there. If you listen very closely to what that mom is saying, it’s hidden there. The words she can’t take back. The daughter who hasn’t called in months. The friend who judged her unfairly. The child who refuses to go into the nursery or misbehaves in the grocery store or acts up at school. The husband who gets the very last of her attention, who feels lost in the shuffle instead of part of the two-person team she always swore they would be. With so much on her plate and so many “perfect” moms out there to compare herself to, she’s just struggling. 

That’s what she doesn’t say. When she says, “I’m fine,” those are what she means. Those things and more – I’m hurting. I’m angry. I just need a big slab of chocolate and some coffee. (Okay, that last one she probably will say.) But of all the things that most moms don’t say, the most important one is “I need help.” 

She doesn’t need your pity. She doesn’t need advice (unless she asks for it). She doesn’t need you to tell her to “enjoy this time…it goes so fast” or “just wait, it gets worse (or better)” or “don’t complain, it was your decision to become a mom.” She knows all of that. But she still needs help. She needs you to go out of your way to connect with her. She needs you to offer help, sometimes multiple times before she truly believes you want to. And even if she turns you down, believe me, she’s grateful that you offered. She needs you to pray for her, for her marriage, her job, her kids, her failures, her health, for HER. She needs you to drop her a note or email or text, out of the blue, because it means you thought of her and then did something about it. She just needs to know that she matters for more than lunches made and laundry done and prayers said and mundane days spent. 

Because she won’t say that. And really, on most days, she doesn’t even think it. But some days, she does. And on those days, you will make a world of difference to that one mom if you choose to hear, not just what she’s saying to you, but all of what she doesn’t say, too.  

Let’s see…

Timmy is now five week old. I’ve been trying to get an update written for a week (thus, the blog title), but obviously that has turned out to be somewhat difficult to accomplish. So here are some of the highlights. 

I cannot keep Erin and Megan from shoving Timmy’s pacifier into his mouth at random moments. Usually, but not always, he is crying when they do. And the are so proud of the themselves when he actually takes it. But sometimes, I’m sure they just shove the thing in his mouth by force, poor kid.

T’s last bath also seemed to erase some of his hair. Or it could have been Megan’s tendency to polish his head like a bowling ball (with her hand). But either way, he’s got a massively receding hairline these days. It’s very cute in a little-old-man sort of way.

Alex has stopped participating in bedtime story time because he uses those moments to get uninterrupted Timmy Time. He pushes a little stool over to the crib and stands there looking at him and talking to him while everyone else is in the other room.

Timmy has quite a strong neck and upper body. Alex was the same way. In his calm moments, he just holds his head up and looks around with his still-dark eyes. He seems to have a very serious disposition, too. His general look is solemn, even concerned (he has a very expressive forehead actually), but given the crazy family into which he was born — without his consent, mind you — I think a bit of concern is probably in order. On the other hand, he gave me a full-fledged smile the other day that lit up his entire face – so, so adorable!

We get some of the best interactions with him on his changing pad, especially at bedtime. Get his diaper changed and jammies on, and he just lays there listening to you talk to him, eyes fixed on you. Love it. 

He’s definitely growing (his next well-visit is this week, so we’ll see how big he is), but he’s still just the perfect little armful for me. And sometimes I even remember to just snuggle with him instead of getting on to the next thing. Don’t want to waste these few sweet days, right?

Oh, and can I just say how much I love the Babies R Us trade in event. They do this a couple of times a year (it’s on right now), and it is fabulous. We got a new stroller by trading in an old one we never used that didn’t work exactly right. No trying to sell it or what not…nope, just hand it to them and get 25% off a stroller that, as it turns out, should be perfect for us. In fact, I put the new stroller together this morning, and the three older kids played on it like a new toy most of the morning. Nice!

Of course, there are rough patches, too. Megan and Timmy both have colds. Meg’s is a (horribly) runny nose, but T is stuffy. It’s SO not fun to listen to a little one trying to figure out how to breathe and eat, all at the same time. Hopefully, it’ll be a quick run and they’ll be back on top in a day or two (and hopefully, the twins don’t get it, though I’m not holding my breath on that one!). 

And for me, the exhaustion has definitely set it. It got really bad a week or so ago when lack of sleep got combined with sickness (me), Meg & Alex not sleeping, serious gas issues and a growth spurt (both Timmy). I was barely hanging on. Seriously. And it’s funny, on the third go-round, you’d think I would have been ready for it. But no, that kind of exhaustion just knocks you out every time. Of course, I have some lessons tucked away…the reality that, with babies this small, every change lasts about a week. Good week? Great…it’ll change in a week or so. Really bad week? Don’t worry…in another few days, it’ll change. And then of course, my cousin Michelle was absolutely right. You can do your best to “catch up” on sleep, but the truth is, you just learn to live without it. So we just slogged through. And things are better. For now anyway (ask me again next week – we’re about due for the 6 week growth spurt!)…

Still, we are making it. At some moments, “epic” doesn’t even begin to cover the magnitude of my mom fails. Other moments, we manage to look like we’re handling all four without a hitch. Some days I remember that Eric needs some attention, too. Other days, I even get something other than feeding Timmy and working on the laundry done…woohoo!

But regardless, we have survived the first month. Can’t wait to see where we go from here…