I sat down and cried today.
I hid in my daughters room. Under her bed, as I was cleaning what she refused to clean, I hid and cried.
Let's have a moment of realness. Let's get utterly raw.
Being a mommy is hard. Add to that - we have three that are not yet in school. I stay home, which is a love hate situation. Stay at home mom depression is a real thing, I believe I have been pretty open about my own battle with this. After our third child was born, I realized (with the gentle push from my husband) that I needed to talk to my doctor. I live such a beautiful life and I want for nothing. I am unbelievably happy in every since of the word, which makes something such as a mental illness seem so far fetched, but even I have demons to battle - mine are simply of the internal variety. I began taking medication to help me with this, but there are still dark days. Sometimes these days span into weeks.
Since we have started our farm, good days have far outlasted the bad, but recently I have struggled. Today, my morning started like many others. Fix my coffee. Get the kids breakfast. While they eat, tend to the animals. While checking on the chickens, I discovered our daughter's favorite chick not moving in the brooder. We have had a sneaking suspicion for a couple of weeks now that she might not survive, but we were hoping she would continue to fight and ultimately pull through. She was tiny. While the rest of our pullets continued to grow, she just....didn't. Today, we had to let her go. I had to let her go. This isn't the first brush with death on the farm. It certainly won't be the last. Such is farm life. Today, however, I had to experience it first hand. I had to end the suffering of my daughter's favorite chick. As if I did not feel awful enough, our rooster attacked me, not once, but twice as a result.
While I internalize my own hurt to break the news to my kids, I discover that our middle child has gotten into my recipe book and pulled everything out. Everything. Bookmarks, stickers, post its, all of it. He's three, he doesn't understand, but I yelled anyway. I yelled. I asked them why Mommy can't have anything. They have soooo many books and toys of their own that they won't play with. Won't pick up. Won't take care of. Yet I can't have anything. I was upset. More upset than I should have been, but did I mention how my morning began??
I sat down and cried.
To all the mommies out there, running a farm or not - you aren't alone. We all struggle. Tomorrow will be better.