I’m sharing all these great pictures and stories about Malorie and those that love her this week, but I would be remiss if I didn’t wax poetic about my own experience. This is my blog after all and Lord knows, I’ve gone on tangents on much less interesting fodder than my thoughts on motherhood.
The short answer is this – I’m surprising myself and have taken to this like a fish to water. We have established that I’m not a big fan of kids in general, right? I’m still not sure I want to hold yours when I come over to visit, but I can NOT get enough snuggles from my little lady!
The long answer – motherhood is a complicated flurry of emotions. I mean, dang…
I tried not to have a wish list for Eggroll’s delivery. I knew it wouldn’t go according to plan, so I didn’t want to get caught up in the details instead of the end goal. Thank the Lord I didn’t, because everything went exactly opposite of what I would have wanted. If asked, I will go on and on about the crappy doctor who kind of forced a cesarean on me and, in fact, I have via a four page document I wrote hopped up on hormonal-shifting emotions and pain medications. (In short – yes, in the end it had to happen that way, but when he came into the room only a few hours in (without introducing himself or really taking a gander at any of the important nether regions) and said we’d have to do a c-section, I couldn’t help but think he wanted to keep his skills fresh and I was the lucky target that weekend.) But the fog has now cleared and I realize it wasn’t that big a deal. Eggroll is healthy. I’m recovering as expected and perhaps I can even turn this experience into an “I’m one of you” story for future pilates and yoga students. (That said, if you would like to hear the story, let me know and I’ll send you a copy.)
So on the one hand, I say my birth story is not that big a deal. On the other, I’d tell you that it (and other things) has really put me off wanting to add a Pot Sticker to this family in the future. I could handle the pain and the epidural and even three hours of pushing, but going into a major surgery with a doctor I didn’t trust really scared me and scarred me for life. I’m not sure I want to do that again. Nor am I sure I want to take away any attention from Malorie. As I’ve enjoyed these first few days with just her and me, I wonder how this would work with a toddler running about. Definitely couldn’t linger in the rocker as long as we have…
But enough about a future baby, let’s focus on what we have on hand. This amazing little creature that looks like Randy, sneezes like me, and has the mannerisms of my mom when waking up from a good nap, is truly fascinating. Who knew I’d so quickly be able to pick up on what cry means what or that I’d be able to hear her calling for help from her room? (OK, Randy would have guessed that seeing as I can hear everything when I’m trying to sleep.) She frustrates me when she gets so angry at each diaper change, but she surprises me when she goes right back to sleep after our 4 am feeding. I love that she wants to be held and how she grips my fingers, and like it when she chooses to be happy in her car seat so we could go for a walk or to the store without a major breakdown.
I am so enjoying this time together, but am already planning out “grown-up” activities to allow me out of the house. I am reading books (during the nursing) and catching up on my daytime TV (during the naps), but really look forward to an evening on the couch with Randy where we can both eat dinner at the same time and not just between feedings. Someday we will snuggle again.
I promptly lost 20 of the 37 pounds gained in the first two weeks postpartum and made the mistake of asking out loud “am I losing weight too fast”. Why was that a mistake? It put the brakes on the weight loss, of course. I feel like I look OK for only being a month out, but when my spring jacket didn’t fit nor the scale move (downward) again since March 1, it makes me sad. I have the energy and inspiration to get back to the gym, but I’m not allowed to use my core muscles until April 1. P.S. Try not to use your core muscles. Impossible if you want to do anything beyond lay in bed all day!
Add “smells like breastmilk” and “why put on eyeliner if I’m not leaving the house” to the list of current beauty philosophies and you can easily see why I worry if Randy will ever think I’m pretty again. On the plus side, I have showered every day since Eggroll’s arrival, even if that means bringing her Rock N’ Play into the bathroom with me. She may suck up 75% of each day, but at least she’s let me keep my leisurely timed shower. (Knock on wood that saying this out loud didn’t screw this up, too!)
The first two weeks were hell on my emotions. Randy deserves a fruit basket for putting up with my shenanigans during those 14 days. I was ALL over the map from literally clutching my pearls (had I had my wits about me enough to put on jewelry, in the meantime, just hand-to-chest will do) in fits of swooning over Eggroll and having tears pop up out of nowhere in the middle of a Comedy Central movie marathon for reasons such as “Randy has to go back to work”, “I will never again spend the first day with my first-born”, and “this egg roll (lower case = Chinese food, not daughter) is awful… Our meal on the first night back home is ruined.” You know, the important stuff. Thankfully, I feel like the hormones have brought me back to as much of a mental balance as I’ve ever had (which is to say, not really, but at least I know how to handle it) and so far, postpartum depression has not sunk in. I hope it stays that way.
As long as I’m looking at this face, how can it not?!
On that note, it’s time to get back at it. Randy is traveling for work this week, so I’m getting lots of extra Eggroll snuggles. I love it. But I will also love the old-fashioned cocktail, adult conversation, and the outfit that includes a skirt and a clean shirt I deserve for a real happy hour outing come Friday upon his return. It’s all about balance, right?!
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