Yesterday went much better. You slept most of the day and threw very few fits. This meant that I got to sleep enough and also threw very few fits. I even got some dishes done and started working on your cousin’s little goofus sweater that will match yours. In all, it was a good day.
It gave me hope that I can actually do this, and for the first time since you were born, I can honestly say that I like you. I even think you’re cute now.
When I actually get to leave the house for something other than doctor’s appointments (I can’t go anywhere now because 1) it is unbelievably cold, 2) you would have to go with me and I’m not dragging you into insane low temperatures and the height of flu season, and 3) it’s so cold my car won’t start) and people ask what they always ask new mothers, “Didn’t you just fall in love with him at first sight?” I’ll be honest and say no, it took about two and a half weeks.
This doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me or with you, it’s just how things went with us. Like I said earlier, from your end it might have been because you were cared for by your dad while I was recovering and in pain all the time, and from my end it was probably because of all the pain I associated with you (though oddly enough I do not associate the discomforts of pregnancy, labor, or delivery with you, only the pains that began after your birth).
Being honest will, I hope, make someone else feel better too. I’m not a freak, I’m not a bad mother, I’m not sick (unless things turn around and I start having more bad days than good, then I will seek help because that’s not good for any of us), and neither are you (and neither are you, possible desperate new mother who found this). Sometimes this is just how it goes, and if it doesn’t get better or gets overwhelming, seek help*.
Okay, there was one time, when you were less than a week old and got to nursing too aggressively and you coughed a little, so I looked down. Your eyes were glazed and out of focus and your lips were blue. Not purple like you were losing or regaining oxygen, but blue. You looked just like Michael did right after and I panicked. I have never been so scared in my life. I yelled for Josh and he came running, but by the time he got there you were already up to lavender and soon were the right color. It wasn’t until a few days later that we learned this sometimes happens. So far, it hasn’t happened twice and for that I am very grateful.
So that’s a little more about your first weeks, and so far, even though it’s only 8:00 AM, today is going well too. You’re asleep in your bassinet in the other room and I have the time to sit down and write something, watch Dirty Jobs on Netflix, work on Will’s sweater, and maybe, maybe, do some laundry (but probably not).
*I am honestly a little afraid that if I am treated for PPD it will make me uninsurable, not because insurance companies won’t take me (Thank you Obama for making that cop-out crock of crap illegal!) but because they have to and can charge whatever they want, thus rendering insuring my health prohibitively expensive. We’ll have to see where the mess with health care goes in the future.