There was the memory of the sting of doing something, anything, for myself after Henry died. I wasn't supposed to have time for yoga. I was supposed to be pushing a stroller, not taking long walks by myself. I was supposed to be comforting a crying babe in the middle of the night, not staying up to read blogs of other mamas like me—and sleeping in (until 7, 10, noon) wasn't supposed to be an option. And yet I did all those things. And each thing I did for me was a little slap or reminder that my baby was gone.
But now, with a toddler toddling about and getting teeth and loving being read to and being sure she doesn't want a nap, even though I know she needs a nap, there are many things I'd like to do for me that are hard to do. Like go to yoga or take a run or take a nap.
The other day, I decided I was going to take a run anyway. It was a gorgeous day and I really needed it. I was having a pretty good run, too, despite the drag of the jog stroller. And then there was a car veering toward us. It was not a particularly close call. I slowed down, pushed the stroller off the road, and was more annoyed that I lost momentum going up a hill than anything. As I walked up the hill, I thought how nice sidewalks would be or a way to get to the bike path without getting in my car or the opportunity to go for a run without the jog stroller. But that last one caught me up. I had to add—with a baby to come home to. As much as I sometimes crave a little me time, I still remember how bitter that me time is when gotten in wrong way.
But I do need to take care of me. So this week, I ran twice, I bought daffodils and put them all over the house, and I got myself some good dark chocolate that I enjoy as my nighttime treat. And I keep dreaming of a massage and considering who could babysit so I could get one.
What have you done for yourself lately?