Eleven weeks and change ago, I had a baby.
I don't have a dramatic delivery story. Much like my pregnancy, it was smooth sailing. The few days after were rough. I had never spent the night in a hospital, and had no idea how difficult it was to sleep. (Big duh there.) Luckily, I had my mom at home to help me out. Rather than google potentially terrifying things, I could just say..."Mooooom, is this normal?" and she'd allay my fears. Her most fantastic help meant that when she left, it was extra terrifying. In fact, the night after she left, my husband and I high-fived for making it 24 hours.
There are still moments when P.I.C. and I look at each other and laugh in disbelief. We have a kid. We are parents. We made a baby. SHE'S SO CUTE. (Everyone says that, I know, I know.)
You know what? All of those parenting cliches are so true. It's the hardest job in the world. It's the best job in the world. Blah blah blah. All you talk about is poop. (Partly true.) The entire first two weeks you are topless. (Um, try entire first month. Even now, I feel like I'm always experiencing an intentional nip slip.) I cry at the drop of a hat. The hormones that messed me up during pregnancy have evolved to make me a weepy mess.
I have so much to say about it, and yet have such a difficult time finding the words. I guess I can sum it up by saying...I am really, really happy. I wish that I could fit back into my jeans again, but I know this will happen with time. I'd rather focus on taking care of the little lady for now.
I go back to work on Friday. That makes me mostly sad, but a little happy, and for the happy bit, I feel guilty. ALL THE FEELINGS. Seriously. Anyhow, I will leave you alone with some four-day baby fingers.
Meet the little lady.
My heart is broken.
6 months ago