Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Hitting a wall

 This is all so worth it.  Just one nuzzle in that mess of hair reminds me of that.

Well, I've gotten to that point that a new mom inevitably gets to where you are just down for the count.  Except that instead of down, you are on your feet, doing laundry, emptying the dishwasher, slicing watermelon, breastfeeding around the clock, and pleading, pleading, pleading with a two year old.

Eli is three weeks old tomorrow, and time is sort of flying!  In a lot of ways, these have been a long (long) three weeks.  But when it comes to seeing these newborn days tick past, soon into oblivion, nothing could feel faster.

Physically, I feel remarkable.  Child birth messes you up, no doubt.  You end up with skin stretched to frightening degrees, your kidneys are ain't where they're supposed to be, and just generally you're a shaken up and depleted vessel of a person.  I'm not "looking good" in the bounce back sense; at some point, my butt and thighs must have decided to get on board with my growing stomach, and my stretch marks quite literally scare small children (or at least the one in my bedroom this morning who almost got teary-eyed upon seeing her never-again bikini ready mom change her shirt).  But, still, I think that my recovery in as far as feeling strong again one day soon is going quite well.

Exhaustion-wise, I feel rough.  Eli sleeps a lot, but still hasn't gotten a real strong hold on a circadian rhythm, so we're up a lot at night.  Nursing and pooping.  The nursing I expected.  But the around the clock pooping is new.  Midnight poops? Oh, poor baby, let's go change you! 2 am poops?  Geez, pal, you really ate a lot, huh? Let's go change you.  4:15 am poops?  Wake up, Will.  Wake up and take your son.  This will pass, I know.  And I also know that being woken up frequently at night is not where I shine as a mother.  I do what needs to be done, but it frazzles me.  No matter how tired I am in the morning, I can rally and accept the fact that daytime demands action.  But sleeping in 60 to 90 minute intervals to be awoken to a baby who may or may not fall back asleep in the following 60 to 90 minutes unhinges me.  I'll get my REM cycle one day.  Probably not today.

Emotionally, I do not have vast resources at the moment.  But I am much more stable than in the days right after the birth.  Want to know how to get a woman with a two-day old to cry?  Ask her if how she's doing.  It worked like gang busters for everyone who unwittingly tried it on me!   You brought us a casserole! Thank you! How am I? *Sob* No, it's safe for you to leave now, don't worry! These helpless children will be just fine, I swear it.

So, that's where we are.  Honestly, I think it's all par for the course at this point.  Though of course I have low moments, especially when it comes to how well I am helping Edie cope with her new sibling (i.e., I don't help well).  Neighborhood friends have been amazing about helping with meals and general encouragement.  I could not be more grateful.  Will's work schedule has not been very forgiving, but he is, as always, a (usually) patient and kind partner.  With gratitude and a yawn, I'm off to pick up a baby.




1 comment:

  1. Hitting a wall, again and again. I recall feeling like I wasn't human or something. Longing for an opportunity to sell my soul for three solid hours of sleep. Know you are thought of often and nurturing thoughts are sent your way to add drops to your drained cup of energy.

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