On a scale of 0-5, I'd say I'm at about a 2. It turns out, I wasn't ever good at resting, even when I thought I was. I just had a lot more time to kinda rest. Now that I only get like an hour at the very end of the day to have any sort of me-time, I actually have to try. [I'm not good at trying.]
So becoming a mom was like a slap in the face while having a bucket of icy water thrown on you while falling desperately in love at the same time. And that happened every day for the six weeks after the first two weeks (the first two weeks didn't count for me; Stephen was off or only working part time, and E slept most of the time anyway). This business of getting to do what I wanted was absolutely gone in a way I really didn't understand before. But how can you? Everything in your whole life changes forever. I knew I was selfish before, but wow. Motherhood is crazy. Even if the Lord took Ezra to Heaven, there is no going back to being a not-mom.
Okay, back to rest. I should make it clear that I'm talking about real rest. Not how much sleep I got, but how much I was resting in the Lord - allowing Him to be my strength, leaning on Him, trusting Him, not being all anxious and crazy or lazy and good-for-nothing. I kind of went into a spiritual coma for the first three months. It was a bit like falling down a well on a warm, sunny day. It's somewhat dark and not terribly unpleasant, but you know you can't stay there forever, and it's gonna be hard to get out.
And it has been. I'm happy to say I actually started working on it in earnest a few weeks ago. And now I have genuinely restful days. Maybe one or two a week, but still. I feel so good after those days.
Today was not a restful day. I spent a lot of it frustrated and out-of-love. I think of it like baths. I hated bathing growing up, HATED it. But then I'd step in the shower or bath and never want to get out. But still, when it was bath-time again, I'd put it off as much as possible. And let me tell you, a rag-bath is not a bath. Just like a rag-bath day is not a bath day. You get through both, but one is wonderful and the other just kind of does the job. And yet, even the day after a gorgeous bath day, I'm right back to the rag baths until I get sick of it again.
Okay, I didn't write this to be down on myself. The Lord isn't upset with me; He told me so, and I'd be an idiot to call Him a liar. We're getting out of this together. I have confidence that, at some point in my future, every day will be a bath day for me.