Some mornings I walk Gorby in the local woods. He loves it there, and he deserves it. A number of people (including Cheryl, Kenju, and CTG) have asked how he's doing with the babies, and the truth is, he's very insecure. He sits by them when they're downstairs, he follows them when we carry them, but he needs an awful lot of attention. We try to give it to him but it's not always easy when you have two infants to deal with. Maggie, on the other hand, is the true loser in this scenario. She hates the babies as much as she hates all other people, and she spends most of her time outside, inconsolably angry and unwilling to sit on my lap. I am not forgiven for bringing them into the house, no matter how much I try to make peace with her.
I will keep trying.
That's what I do.
These walks we take in the morning are something I have started looking forward to. Sometimes I take a Lemonhead along with me in a sling and the three of us walk through the woods, quiet in our activities. Sometimes I take Gorby alone.
We walk until I get tired and light-headed, then we go back.
Autumn has hit the woods hard and on any given morning you can stand beneath a tree and let the shower of falling leaves hit your head and shoulders. I wear gloves and a scarf because the nip in the air takes me by surprise. Gorby runs on the path, his breath sometimes visible in the early morning air.
I take these moments of peace as they come, not because of the hecticness that comes with babies because, believe it or not, I love every goddamn minute of it. I love the baths and the feedings and the diapers and the burpings. The babies are even sleeping through the night most nights, it's not as though I'm as endlessly tired as I was. I take the moments of peace because I need them and cling desperately to them.
Helen is the contributing editor for Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder. She also covers Postpartum Depression. She writes daily at Everyday Stranger where she also chronicles life with her twins, Nick and Nora.