....not to be confused with being a mutha *@$%#! in da hood. There is a difference.
Here I sit as my sweet baby sleeps almost 6 weeks after the main event. Some day I will get around to posting my birth story. I still can't believe I grew and birthed a little human. But I digress.
While I'm still figuring this motherhood thing out, I have made a few observations in my semi-conscious, really-wishing-I-could-wind-down-and-nap-more-because-my-baby-only-sleeps-3-hours-at-a-time-overnight-when-I'm-lucky state. Life with newborns. #mommyproblems
Anyway. My thoughts. Did the thought train derail again? Blast.
Side note: some of these thoughts are ideas I got from a Babycenter.com list of 42 things that change when you have a baby. I decided to hone in on the ones most relevant to my situation.
I finally respect my body. Because of my pregnancy weight gain, I have a lot of extra honky tonk in my badonky donk. Not to mention that my thighs don't whisper to each other when I walk. They scream. I have some pretty gnarly mommy scars (some call them stretch marks, but I think mommy scars sounds more hardcore). All of this I wear as badges of honor. Why? I had a baby. Without medication. No epidural. No spinal. Nothing except a little anti-nausea medication because I seriously felt like I was going to throw up during active labor. It was by no stretch easy. It's not called a picnic; it's called labor for a reason. I felt like I was going to give in for the love of anesthesia many times. And then I was pushing a baby past my pelvic bone and out my lady bits (cue funeral dirge...or maybe "Ave Maria"...what once was will never be the same again, dear va-jay). Oddly the pushing part didn't hurt. Before I knew it, there was a beautiful baby on my chest looking me in the eyes and reaching out to touch my face. Women say it all the time, but seriously my body took over and told me what to do. I just knew when it was time to push. I knew we needed to go to the hospital (okay...my water had broken, but still I had a feeling we shouldn't labor at home and needed to be in the hospital). I am still in awe that I was able to have an unmedicated natural childbirth, and now that my sweet Natalie girl is here my body still amazes me in a number of ways. How quickly it rebounded after childbirth. How quickly my baby bulge became an almost imperceptible little lump of pudge. How it provides just the right amount of nutrition and food for my baby via breastfeeding. Yeah, I get discouraged seeing how I used to look compared to now. I have some work to do to get back to pre-pregnancy awesomeness. But for now I have "just had a baby" awesomeness to rock. And I love it!
Everything makes me cry. It seemed like I cried if I waited too long to take a pee break the first couple of weeks after Natalie was born. While I have gotten my emotions under control since the hormone roller coaster has become more of a lazy river, there are still things that get me weepy. Like the news. I watch all these stories from a mom's perspective now. The world is kind of depressing. I also cry sometimes when I look at Natalie and I'm overwhelmed by how amazing of a miracle she is. My mom says all this crying is payback for making fun of her being a leaky faucet. Perhaps.
The definition of a good night's sleep has forever changed. Related: I used to think I knew what the word "exhausted" meant. Before moving into the motherhood, a good night's sleep was at least 7 hours. I couldn't function with less than that. Thankfully, the midnight runs to the potty during my third trimester sort of prepped me for what was to come. In the motherhood, a good night's sleep has become whenever Natalie sleeps for at least 3 hours at a time. If I get 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep in a row, I feel like a new woman in the morning. After making it through the first three weeks, I've somewhat adjusted. There are times where I feel like I'm barely going to make it through the day. Thank goodness for naptime.
I have to harness my inner detective. In case you hadn't heard, babies don't talk. They cry. All of their cries mean something, but you have to play detective to figure out what the heck they need and want. After going through the usual suspects (hunger, dirty diaper), it's tough to figure out what's wrong when she keeps on crying. Enter inner detective. I'm no Nancy Drew and the hubs certainly isn't a Hardy Boy, so we have a lot of trial and error going on to figure out how to soothe our sweet girl. After nearly 6 weeks, we still feel clueless most of the time but we still love her dearly.
What I once thought would be sacrifices just aren't. I thought I would resent having to give up being able to go and do whenever I want. I don't because there's nowhere I'd rather be than with my daughter. When baby was gassy and fussy no matter what I did and I realized I would need to give up dairy, I thought it would be impossible. It's not because I see how much happier and calmer my daughter is without it in my diet. I realize I would move heaven and earth to make sure she's taken care of, even if it means I go without certain things I used to have or do.
It's going to take some time getting adjusted to my new surroundings in this 'hood, but in a strange way it feels like I've always lived here. Well, I know there's nowhere else I'd rather be anyway.
