‘Sometimes the hardest part is to not look at a day past as a day wasted or lost but experiences and memories gained’ or some such spiel with an uplifting message meant to make you feel optimistic. I try to read those so I don’t feel like my life for the past year hasn’t been much of mine. It’s hard not to when I’m constantly playing out the titles
‘Is it over yet?
Battered and bruised part II’
And part-I? That was the first pregnancy. There in lies one of the biggest mysteries ever. See, you forget about all the pain and trauma you go through to have a baby which is why after suffering all the abuse and vowing never to put yourself through that again you go and do just that. Again.
Oh, forgive my manners. World – Baby, Baby – World 🙂 After a few hours of contractions in the wee hours of the morning a couple of weeks ago we were in the hospital and my belly was being monitored. They decided it was time and preparations were made for the big surgery and a few hours later I had my darling little baby. But, it’s not over yet.
After the trauma of the surgery elated as I was to see my precious little bundle I couldn’t just revel in establishing a bond with my baby. The initial few weeks are tantamount to torture if your child does not latch on well during breastfeeding. If it works well there’s nothing like it. The pump is no less painful so I figure I’d rather breastfeed. The stitches hurt from the surgery and for a select number like me you run into post delivery issues you haven’t even heard of (swollen feet so bad you cannot see any ankles, sore belly, symphysis pubis dysfunction?) Nothing major but enough to make one squeamish and enough to keep yourself from taking down that countdown to normalcy calendar hanging on your bedroom wall. It’s not over yet! My definition of normal is pretty meager at this point. No bells and whistles. It’s humble self would simply mean no physical pain, more mobility and a routine of some sorts. I miss carrying my older one and spending time with and caring for her. I miss me.
But the strangest thing is despite all the whining and cursing I find myself utterly smitten by this tiny little creature in my arms. Even more so than I was with my oldest. Maybe it’s because I know better, that they grow up fine inspite of you :), that they stay this cute helpless innocent way for such a short fleeting expanse of time, that you cherish it so much more. She’s helping me relive and better enjoy my older daughter as a baby at the same time. I am in love again 🙂
And so smitten I want to make another one but my husband, our moms and my best friend vowed to not be found within a 100 mile radius of me if I got pregnant again. So much for the support 🙂
Honestly though there’s something about them that makes you crazy enough to want to even consider going through such hell again. It’s probably what makes a mother so protective and nurturing, someone you don’t mess with when it comes to her kids. That knowledge alone helps allay some fears I have about being a good mother. it’s in our DNA and really is quite the miracle of nature!