PS This isn’t a mental health confession

Some people have alter egos. Beyonce? Sasha Fierce. Nicki Minaj? Roman Zolanski.

Me? My alter ego is Mom. Just Mom. It’s debatably an alter ego, as opposed to my life role right now, because Mom and Ashton are two drastically separate elements of me. I imagine they’ll fuse together at some point, but Mom makes very different decisions than Ashton would.

Mom is still developing; I think she’ll be pretty colorful by baby #2. She gets real crazy, real fast. Ashton tends to be more mellow, but Mom is proving to be dominant.

I have a sick little man at my house right now, and sick babies break my heart. I was up with Gus multiple times last night…and luckily for Ashton, that’s when Mom really comes alive.

I held a crying baby at 12, and at 2:30, and at 4, and kissed him and snuggled him until he fell asleep. Ashton would have gently placed him back in his crib to hop back into bed, but Mom just couldn’t be coerced to do that. The Mom in me is doesn’t care about practicality, so, surrendering to Mom mode, I held that sleeping baby almost all night. Gus has never (with the exception of once) fallen asleep in my arms, and I couldn’t lose any of those enchanting minutes to sleep. I listened to his breath, smelled his hair, and held his hand. I admired every perfect eyelash, every perfect tiny fingernail, and every perfect feature on him that couldn’t possibly have been created by my own body.

With a new baby moving safely inside me, and my other baby sleeping warm on my chest, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Too overwhelmed to sleep.

Ashton has regretted Mom’s decisions all day and prays we all sleep like rocks tonight, but Mom wouldn’t mind another endearing night of cuddling-baby bliss. Hopefully, the two find a happy medium before my concealer runs out.

Just like the old days...blurry pictures, blurry nights.
Just like the old days…blurry pictures, blurry nights.

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