So. Two weeks into motherhood. And where oh where to begin? The first thing that pops into my head is, thank goodness for blogging. Even if I’m personally not doing too much of it these days, I sure as heck am glad all y’all are. You see, Miss C and I are breastfeeding on demand which at this point means we are nursing at least every two hours, and these sessions can often go on for an hour. So whilst the babe is eating, I am reading and commenting and trying to keep a hold on reality and grown-up land. Although my grasp on this world of adults is tenuous, it’s certainly alive and well. You wouldn’t know it from my Tweets, though. I am slowly becoming one of those people who can only send notifications about my lack of sleep and my child.
And what a child! She has a voice, and she exercises it at full-volume. It is quite amazing that such a small person can make such a big sound. And she can sustain it. But where her cries would send me into an incredibly intense hormone-induced tizzy during her first week at home, B and I are getting used to them now and can make light of her “er-AAA” intonations. I might even call them cute now, although the cuteness is relative to the time of day in which they occur. 10 AM? Cute. 3AM? Not so much.
These last two weeks have been bittersweet. It’s hard to be a new parent. Wonderful and hard. You think you can’t handle more stress and exhaustion, and then the next day it just piles on thicker. But with that day also comes the promise of a gassy smile. My stress is fleshing itself out in odd ways. I have been unable to relax my mouth and tongue for about a week, so I’m speaking with a lisp. It’s so weird.
Also, at the end of pregnancy, you think you know this thing called Sleepiness. Haha, you don’t.
Not even remotely.
The waiting? It’s not the hardest part. The joke’s on me.
But you survive because your baby is perfect and you realize that this is your life now. At least that’s what I have to realize anew every day. It takes a lot of prayer and meditation for me to remember that it’s not about me anymore. It’s about HER. This is my mantra. It’s all I have in those lonely wee small hours of the morning when my girl is crying, uninterested in nursing, being burped, or resting, and when being a mother isn’t coming naturally for me.
Prayer and that face. Oh, that face!
Miss C, you’re the apple of my eye!