Things I've learned from Little, the Sequel

1. OK: labor/delivery was still hard.  I sort of thought it wouldn’t be, given that it wasn’t my first rodeo. It was. Contractions still hurt, recovery is still hard. My expectations were probably higher than they should have been (“I’m a pro! I’ve got this!”), but I’ve heard that oxytocin helps you forget the pain, so maybe that’s why? And no rest for the wicked or post-partum mommy of >1, either.  Still… after 2 weeks, significant improvement, after 4, even more, after 6, walks felt normal, now at 10, runs feel normal.  When I can find the time! Even with all the recovery woes, I am still so grateful to hold my baby in my arms rather than on top of my bladder. Pregnancy, I’m out.

2. Breastfeeding was easier second time around, but it was still hard in the beginning. It does not surprise me at all that people give it up for so many, many reasons.  I shed tears the second time around too, still had to have my husband pinch me while my baby latched. Thankfully all nerve endings were once again destroyed and it no longer hurts. My breast could be on fire and I might not know.

3. Exiting the house with >1 children: timing is everything. There are magical windows of time that open and close like an old Nintendo video game obstacle course before someone needs to be fed, someone needs to use the potty, goes potty, or throws a tantrum. I continue to devise all sorts of systems to make this go more smoothly, but in the game keeps changing. Still, battle on, innner Warrior, keep those sticker charts and car treat bribes and quiet threats coming, because love and school drop-off are worth fighting for!

4. Babies are physically exhausting: if you nurse them, they literally suck the energy out of your body, and of course they are designed to wake up every few hours. Yet they got nothin’ on two and three year olds… still physically exhausting- to be read in a loud whine: (“mommy, CARRY me,” “NO, NOT THIS SIPPY THE OTHER PINK SIPPY!!”) AND mentally exhausting. Play with me! Play with me! Play with me! Taken together, I cultivate an hour or two of kid-free time, just so I can hit the reset/reboot button- for everyone’s benefit.

5. I inhabit the same house and bed as my husband, but typically can’t get past one or two phrases of conversation:

“So, I was talking to my mom on the phone, and ...no, G, you already had a snack and we’re going to have dinner in 5 minutes.”

“Oh and we need to pay those utility bills; I left them right on the… sure, yes, you can go down to the basement but mommy can’t because she’s cooking dinner.”

“So how did that conversation with your boss…Whoa! Poop-splosion! OK you do the diaper change I’ll ferry the seat-cover up to the washing machine… again…”

6. Although I heard about it and imagined it would be true, there is nothing I have ever encountered so heart-filling than being with arms’ reach of all three of my family members. So far I have only one picture of the four of us, and it’s a selfie at that, but we’re all resting in our bed, and my heart had exploded.

A month in moments

I will remember this month, the first month of your life, not as a linear narrative, but in the moments and glimpses of our new life together.

The astringent smell of hand sanitizer and the honeyed smell of baby shampoo, the homey smells of bacon and blueberry pancakes, simmered orange peels and cinnamon sticks. 

The impossibly tiny curl of your newborn feet and the velvety smoothness of your little bald head.

The soft silhouette of your little swaddled form, nestled close to my body, two little dark eyes blinking through the night up at me as I nurse you in bed, next to my heart.

The sweet sounds of your sister, using Quiet Voices, to ask me if you are sleeping, and to ask permission to give you the gentlest of hugs. The equally sweet sounds of your grunts and soft breathing in your bassinet next to us, these past 30 nights.

This sweet, fleeting time has already marked so much growth for our family. You came to us as predicted, just 50 minutes into your due date, and you have already joined us on our many small adventures.  Our daily walks to Big Sister’s school, the park, and around the neighborhood.  Your mama’s adjustment to being a new mama again; her cries as she relearned how to nurse, held fervent whispered discussions with your daddy about your care, and figuring out how to hold you just right so that you would feel most secure. The many  visits of our blessed friends, eager to lay eyes on yours and feel your weight in their arms. 

I wonder if these parts of your new life will become part of you, somewhere deep within the reaches of your soul, if not remembered consciously, at least integrated into your being, so that you feel comforted by those homey smells and the sounds of your sweet sister’s voice in all the months and years to come. 

Re-entry...

...to the blogging world.... I want back! Am I allowed?  Am I welcome?  Will I commit?  

These are questions that have plagued me, not exactly leading me back to the keyboard, but that I’ve been ruminating on as I’ve gone some SEVEN MONTHS with no words, not a peep from me. I can name several reasons, even more excuses, for this blogging abstinence, but none of them feel completely honest.  I could say that at first, I was enjoying homecoming, and then next, I got pregnant (yay! but oh, the fatigue...), then there was what I now refer to as The Dark Ages (more commonly known as “terrible twos”), and then I was just busier and busier with work.  All true. But I’ve been living without expression. Lots of inhales, no exhales. No outlet, no production of anything truly my own. The most I’ve been able to muster have been Facebook status updates, which hardly count. Having stepped away from it, things I now know about blogging:

1. Even if I have an audience of one (i.e. me and me alone), blogging helps me feel understood, less alone.

2. Blogging is not the same as journaling. For many reasons, the primary being the “stage” of it (at least potential for public viewing), the access to it, the ease and convenience of storing thoughts on the web, the risk of it, and the physical process of it (typing vs. the more traditional pen-on-leatherbound-journal).

3. Blogging is a practice. A practice in many senses of the word: doing more of it makes the process easier, more fluid; it can be something you return to in some interval, and the ritual of doing so makes it feel healing; and it can become a part of a rhythm of the lived daily (or at least weekly) experience.

4. Though blogging may be viewed as being trendy, it really is a very old form of expression (writing) with a modern twist (web publishing) that has the potential to make us more reflective and thoughtful and as well as create connections among us in new ways.

5. I admire bloggers who continue to show up at their keyboards. The ones I follow continue to surprise and teach me things.

I want to be someone who continues to show up. Here, in this space. So, I return. 


I usually do.