Tuesday, March 13, 2018
confession
When I'm roused up by cries at 3am and looking at Viking, sleeping cozily and soundly (on a new plush mattress, may I add), I am actually cursing him and his worthless nipples.
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
Therapy and Relief
So let me note how amazing it is to be 6 weeks postpartum and NOT be a weepy, depressed mess.
We were steeling ourselves for the worst. Colic. Crying (both me and the baby). Sure this baby can show off her lungs, and no I am not sleeping at all in case anyone is wondering, but we're pretty well-adjusted for a household that is functioning on a lot of take out food with the mother who is literally getting 3-4 hours a night, TOPS.
I mentioned before, my slight anxiety as to how to unpack all of this baby's origin story to Niblet, and god bless my therapist for getting me to a good place about it all. I don't have to. It's not her story. She'll learn it in time, but not before we unfold it for her sister.
We plan to discuss Nutmeg's origins with her early, and often. There are some decent kids books on the topic, and we want her to be comfortable with the knowledge about her DNA. (Niblet may read these books to her as a means of opening the discussion). But we also want her to be matter of fact about it - in other words, we want it to be a non-issue. I never want her in therapy years from now, describing the day that mom dropped the hammer on her and blew up her world by sharing insane information about genetics.
On other fronts, I am now cleared for exercise. THANK GOD. I've lost about 2/3 of the weight I gained in pregnancy, but man I am just so fluffy. I hope that spring actually arrives so I can strap this baby on me and take many many walks up the steep hills in my neighborhood. If this child can ever be torn from my considerable bosom and the virtual geyser of milk it contains, Imma take a ballet class soon.
So what's it like, mothering a baby from a different gene pool? As it happens, it's EXACTLY like mothering a baby from your own gene pool. Exhausting. Fun. A dream come true. This baby is so stinking cute. Which helps after the 3am feed, when it's 4am, and she's not going to sleep at all, she's staring up at me smiling goddammit, and I'm all "it's a good thing you're so stinking cute baby, because it's 4 am right now and I could absolutely keel over."
We were steeling ourselves for the worst. Colic. Crying (both me and the baby). Sure this baby can show off her lungs, and no I am not sleeping at all in case anyone is wondering, but we're pretty well-adjusted for a household that is functioning on a lot of take out food with the mother who is literally getting 3-4 hours a night, TOPS.
I mentioned before, my slight anxiety as to how to unpack all of this baby's origin story to Niblet, and god bless my therapist for getting me to a good place about it all. I don't have to. It's not her story. She'll learn it in time, but not before we unfold it for her sister.
We plan to discuss Nutmeg's origins with her early, and often. There are some decent kids books on the topic, and we want her to be comfortable with the knowledge about her DNA. (Niblet may read these books to her as a means of opening the discussion). But we also want her to be matter of fact about it - in other words, we want it to be a non-issue. I never want her in therapy years from now, describing the day that mom dropped the hammer on her and blew up her world by sharing insane information about genetics.
On other fronts, I am now cleared for exercise. THANK GOD. I've lost about 2/3 of the weight I gained in pregnancy, but man I am just so fluffy. I hope that spring actually arrives so I can strap this baby on me and take many many walks up the steep hills in my neighborhood. If this child can ever be torn from my considerable bosom and the virtual geyser of milk it contains, Imma take a ballet class soon.
So what's it like, mothering a baby from a different gene pool? As it happens, it's EXACTLY like mothering a baby from your own gene pool. Exhausting. Fun. A dream come true. This baby is so stinking cute. Which helps after the 3am feed, when it's 4am, and she's not going to sleep at all, she's staring up at me smiling goddammit, and I'm all "it's a good thing you're so stinking cute baby, because it's 4 am right now and I could absolutely keel over."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)