I know. I know. I had a baby and gave up the Internet. I have been meaning to get online a dozen or so times to put together some coherent thoughts in order to update everyone on what life has been like this first week with our son. But, here's a little piece of information every parent probably knows too well: this parenthood gig? Kind of time-consuming. Also, it's official that coherent thoughts are best offered on a full night's sleep, something I have given up along with the Internet and caring what my hair looks like.
Let me say, though, that with this face around, anything and just everything seems worth it.
Labor was actually much better than I feared, but that's only because I was given drugs and the drugs, my friends, WERE GOOD. I know everyone hates being subjected to the birth story of a stranger's kid, but I will post one soon for my own record and for Kyle to roll his eyes at one day. Sorry, kid, there were stitches involved. I get to post whatever I want about you for at least a month.
We left the hospital Saturday afternoon, and as we were driving out of the parking lot, I thought: They are just letting us leave with him. WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO PROVE WE KNOW WHAT WE'RE DOING. But, we left with a healthy baby boy, and there's not a moment I haven't thrown up thanks for that.
Now that we're home, we're adjusting, trying to figure this tiny little thing out. What put him to sleep one night royally pisses him off the next and, OH MAN, does our kid detest having his diaper changed.
It's hard, and although you hear it's hard and assume it's hard and rationally understand it will be hard, I don't think there's anything in this world that can prepare you (or could have prepared me) for just how hard it really is. I once read somewhere that when you come home with a new baby all of your emotions are slammed into the "on" position, and I've repeated that to myself over the last week because nothing else comes close to describing how emotional and overwhelmed and humbled I feel. I feel so much, and I feel it constantly, and I can't believe all of these feelings took the place of my awful acid reflux -- the feeling I most obsessed over just a short week ago.
I know it's normal, to be this overwhelmed and this emotional after the birth of your first kid. I finally get why anyone does this again -- because it must be easier to relish in the beauty of it when you know you'll make it out the other sleep-deprived end.
So, in all honesty, I spend much of my time with my son's cheeks in my mouth because I cannot think of anything in this world so beautiful and the rest of my time crying because what if something were to happen to those cheeks, to that boy?
I find with each day (and each glorious nap) my hormones balance out a little more, and I start to find some confidence in this new role of mine. I'm assured that confidence and stability only grow, and I look forward to that progression, all the while trying to remember each moment of of this time, this fleeting, precious time that we'll never have again.
On a post from about a month ago, I had many, many people suggest I stock up on DVDS, books, magazines, etc, to get me through the time-consuming act of nursing. I'm somewhat anxious for the days when the pain subsides, and I'm more interested in an episode of "Lost" than if he's eating enough, but for now we spend our time nursing in the rocking chair, no noise, no background television show. I play with his hands and ears and feet and I always, always play with his dark, beautiful hair. And even though the breakdowns (yes, plural) of the last week may tell you differently, my god, there is no place else I'd rather be. There is no one I'd rather be than his mother.
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Oh, and he has a middle name. He is Kyle Parker.