Who came up with that?
It implies magical bliss... mother so in love
she is all googely eyes, blubbering
over her new baby, like a
romantic love affair.
But its not all like that.
First day is always more of a shock
to the system... body has just
acted on it's own primal accord to
birth beautiful babe into the world.
I am shaky, exhausted, amazed.
By the day after I am feeling better already. And
when I look at Kellan, I am thinking,
This is my baby boy! I have a baby boy again!
Excitement starts to trickle in as the
shock begins to fade.
Then it is bedtime, on that second day,
and I am spending special time with my Everett.
Kellan has been fed and is
sleeping in daddy's arms while
I read to Everett and snuggle.
His day is so full and he is so exhausted
that after books he says one sentence
and falls alseep.
I spend the next half hour
staring at him in the fading light
and balling my eyes out. I am both grieving
for the days of just us I am saying good-bye to,
and saying thank you to Everett for such a joy filled three years.
For being my first.
I am both afraid that he will no longer need me
and afraid I won't be there when he does need me.
The breastfeeding roller coaster ride begins.
Ah, the first sweet moment. Seeing my little one
instinctively move to my breast and latch on in 20 minutes.
How does he know?
Next few days we are finding our rhythm.
He is latching on well, nursing constantly, and mama
milk comes in quickly.
My nipples also feel like they are being bitten off with every latch.
But I know this time, with second baby, that
they will heal in a matter of days and then it will
mostly be just the bliss.One night of constant feeding moves into
three nights of full bellies and hours of sleep.
Thank you, Kellan.
The intimacy is tempting me, I am quickly falling in love.
It is hard for me to be isolated
to my bed, to my chair, upstairs.
People visit for a few minutes, my
husband busy taking care of 4 people including
himself, hasn't much time to talk.
Hard to hear the activity below.
Hard to hear someone else parenting
Hard to hear the mess being made in the play room,
toys dumped on the floor by Everett and his cousin, knowing
it will be ignored.
Hardest to listen to the birds, the lawn mower, the
kids playing in the yard, and just
sitting in the sunlight. I cry wanting
to be outside.
But then I look down, at my breast
is my new son. He is drinking himself
into a milky haze a
and then dreaming... of mama mik?
His face moves in and out of expressions:
smiles, pouts, frowns, yawns.
I remember watching Everett do the same
thing. I love watching this. And
despite the isolation, the ansy feelings to get
up and moving, the interrupted sleep, and the breasts
still healing, I am loving this.
Because Kellan is all that this is about.
Just him and me, now. Our time.
Babymoon just became a babymoon,
googley eyes and all.