Killing Me Softly

I emerge from the bathroom. It is the only place where I can sometimes get a moment of peace. So it seemed the most logical place for my self-imposed time-out.
The Boy greets me as I head back to the living room.
Mommy, there's Nothing to worry about.
His words are spoken with the same tenderness as a Parent would speak to a Child who is in Distress.
He opens his tiny arms. I melt into his embrace and feel the wave of Guilt overcome me.
I'm sorry, Baby.
It's ok Mommy.
The camoflauge fleece shirt he picked out all by himself this morning soaks up the tears which stream down my face.
My heart breaks. His Words are killing me. His attempts to comfort me drive the Guilt further.
He's too young for this kind of role reversal. He's not quite 4 and already possesses the wisdom of someone well beyond his years.
He is profoundly sensitive, thoughtful and understanding.
He knows I did not mean it. Somewhere inside he knows this. (He does know this, right?)
The child in him is confused and perhaps a little scared.
But the wise old elder in him knows this isn't about him.
My doctor told me months ago that breastfeeding mimics Menopause.
G.R.E.A.T.
It was the fear of early menopause that brought to me to my OB's Office nearly a year ago.
Instead I left the office that day with the knowledge that I was pregnant.
Well no wonder you're moody.
The midwife joked with me while trying to allay my concerns.
I know now that pregnancy is not the reason for my moodiness.
[Unless we're talking about another Immaculate Conception, in which case someone call the Guinness Book of World Records because WHOOHOO! we're gonna be rich!]
Breastfeeding causes the same hormonal fluctuations as menopause.
3 kids + Hormones + financial woes + breastfeeding.is.so.damn.confusing.how.INTHEHELL.did.the.human race ever survive?=one stressed out Mommy in need of frequent time outs.
I yell more often than I like. Yell because of stress I cannot control.
I yell because I don't know what else to do.
And I yell because I am angry disappointed in myself for letting the stress get to me and for exposing my children to this. For making my son back away from me in fear because I lacked the self-control.
It's ok Mommy.
Thanks, Baby.
But it's not ok. You didn't do anything.
Mommy's sorry.
I promise I'll do better.