September 26th, 2017
I’m currently sitting at home with my baby girl attached to my boob. She has an incredibly healthy appetite (like both of her parents) and spends a lot of time here.
Thank god for the nursing pillow, one of the few but valuable accessories I purchased post birth from Amazon Prime (I’m currently in love with Amazon Prime and am teetering on developing an addiction). While it’s not the most conventional set-up, balancing a laptop while nursing, right now the pillow is allowing me to use both hands while simultaneously feeding bubba and my insatiable desire to write today.
I’m not sure why today of all days I feel compelled to communicate. Maybe 8 weeks living a somewhat isolated life soaked in milk and smelling a sweet version of cottage cheese, is finally taking its toll?
I have been cradling my baby girl in my bed since 3.30am this morning, following the first round of child vaccines, no doubt the first of many tricky decisions to make as a parent.
Despite the many challenges, I am enjoying being a Mamma. Never classing myself as the overly maternal type, I am pleasantly surprised to find how intuitive the process has been so far, and honestly, it is super refreshing to be focusing on something so completely new and different.
Having a baby has to be one of the most effective ways of throwing someone into the present moment, and at the ripe ol age of 38, after many years travelling and millions of different life experiences, I don’t feel I’m missing out on anything. Well, apart from pure independence and the time to put any effort into myself (although I suspect I didn’t invest much time in that anyways).
My morning showers now involve a BabyBjorn bouncer in the bathroom, with baby girl attached, and a running (and mildly entertaining) commentary on what’s taking place moment by moment in an attempt to curb any boredom or separation anxiety.
My 2-hour morning yoga practices have been replaced by smoothie guzzling (that my husband so kindly prepares for me every morning), while changing my baby girls nappy and clothing which is truly like, what I have heard it referred to as, tackling a crocodile. Then I take on the mountain of washing to ensure there are enough clean bras and breast pads to lap up 2-3 changes a day.
An eventful day is one that involves a walk into town with the occasional pastry and tea on arrival, and a wild day is one that involves a walk into town where I am “chased down” by young men calling me a MILF. Now I didn’t know what this meant until I googled it but I choose to take it as a compliment. It’s more action than I’ve had in recent weeks.
Some days though, just the mere thought of leaving the house is exhausting, and by the afternoon a sugar craving comes barrelling in on the tail end of sleep deprivation.
Albeit, it is getting easier. Either the first 6 weeks really are the most challenging, or we’re getting the hang of things and working better as a team. Maybe a bit of both.
I feel relieved when she drifts off to sleep, and yet when she is asleep I spend countless moments staring at her, or after some time missing her and wanting her to wake up again so I can have another sniff.
It’s a very odd and surprising dance.
I don’t know where it’s all leading, or what I’ll end up doing with myself. I suspect the answers are deeply entangled somewhere within my encroaching journey; to relocate my core (in every sense).