On Friday last week, only six days ago, I called Simon in tears while Adlai napped and Koa sat screaming in his bouncy seat.
“I know God says He’ll give us what we need,” I sobbed, “but He doesn’t. I don’t have what I need. I can’t do this.”
My morning had been horrendous. For some unknown reason, I had started trying to potty train Adlai, and within two hours of waking up, he had already peed on three different non-potty surfaces, including in his own bed, which was admittedly my fault, since I’d put him in there for a timeout with no nappy on.
He had also suddenly decided, after months of begging to use the potty, that he didn’t want to, and had been screaming and crying all morning, railing against my attempts to grant the wish he’d been making since I was 8 months pregnant and too tired and fat to deal with emptying out potties and cleaning wee off the floor.
Meanwhile, Koa, now 12 weeks old, hadn’t napped in over 48 hours, leaving me frazzled and tired and desperate for 30 damn minutes to myself.
I was exhausted.
I hadn’t showered.
I did not have what I needed.
Fast-forward to today, and things look completely different. It is Thursday and Adlai has only had one – I repeat: ONE – missed-the-potty accident since Monday morning. In case you have trouble counting, that’s FOUR FREAKING DAYS. I’ve lost count of how many stickers he’s earned on the little potty training chart I made for him last week, and he’s won so many chocolate buttons I’m thinking he might need to go on a sugar detox when this potty training journey is over.
Things have changed with Koa, too. My hard, colicky, reflux-y baby has disappeared, and in his place is a happy, smiley joy of a thing. He still doesn’t nap for very long, but if he’s going to smile at me this much, be this peaceful during the days, then I’ll take that. He’s also gone to bed at 8 o’clock every night for the last 6 nights.
Six nights, folks. Remember that day, six days ago, when I said God does not give me what I need?
What I needed then, what felt so far away, was sweet relief. For things to change, to let up. I needed an intervention, and that’s exactly what I got. I didn’t see it coming, but it was there.
So today, if that’s what you need, take heart. Change could be just around the corner.