Skip to main content

One week old.

Seven whole days since our small bean arrived earthside! It feels unbelievable that she’s reached the one week mark already, yet it also feels like she has been here for much longer. And what a long week it has been at that!



For the most part, things have been going surprisingly well (please touch wood). She’s a settled and happy wee thing who has kind of just slotted into our family. Her big sister talks about her all the time and is very curious, but a little bit hesitant to touch her. She has taken it all in her stride though and we are so proud of them both.

Feeding is going well, sleeping is going well, and overall things feel manageable and good. It’s truly a very welcome contrast to our experience of becoming parents the first time around. We’ve definitely had our moments where things feel a bit much or the adjustment is tricky, but this time round these are only moments you know, rather than 24/7? I am afraid of jinxing things though, despite knowing that we will have our ups and downs, so I’ll just leave this stuff here.

Everyone has been asking us, “how’s it going?” and we answer that it’s good, it’s good, it’s so good, which is true. Sometimes we also say that it’s easier than the first time around. I’ve been feeling a little guilty about saying that though, in case it’s interpreted the wrong way. This is all the truth, but I don’t want people to think that we loved our first baby any less, simply because we had a far tougher time. She was a completely different baby and we found the fourth trimester so hard, but I don’t want anyone to think that this reflects on who she is, if that makes sense? Our big babe is all forms of wonderful and neither is “better” or “worse” than the other. We as parents just coped differently with each one and their uniqueness has been integral to our growth as a family. We love them both infinitely and they are each exactly who we need them to be.

As for the small babe herself, she’s absolutely lovely. She smells so nice. Her skin is so soft. She does those gorgeous newborn face scrunches while she sleeps. She was born too long for all of the newborn clothes we have, so already fits nicely into the 0-3 month size. She has very long toes, has regained her birth weight, and her hair goes fluffy after a bath. Her cry genuinely sounds like a lamb - it’s both so sweet and heartbreaking - but we don’t hear it very often at all. She’s such a joy and to be loving her is such a gift.

And as for me, I’d forgotten how much it feels like you’ve been hit by a truck, post-birth. Each day I feel a bit stronger though and less like I’m just going to fold in half down the middle, so that’s been nice. I’m going a little stir-crazy bring at home too, so I’m looking forward to venturing out in the next few days. Today I’m aiming to have a shower which will be super exciting, I can’t wait.

All in all, everything is going so well and it all feels like it’s glowing softly. It’s scary how well it’s all going, because I keep worrying when will it all be taken away? When will things just feel devastatingly hard? But Mary Oliver is to the rescue once again: 





Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It gets easier (yes, yes it does).

Last night I had the privilege of reading this post by Emily Writes; a favourite author, advocate, and rebel of mine. And my goodness, her words rang true! When our toddler was about 6 weeks old, we were at one of our first Space sessions where lo and behold she screamed for most of the time. I was trying to hold back the tears as I watched all of my mum friends with their happy babies, seemingly having it all together and knowing what they were doing. I didn’t know why my baby screamed so much and why nothing I did would settle her. After cursing myself for leaving the house and swearing to never go back, I started talking to one of the session coordinators. She told me that she had four kids, much to my absolute horror in that moment. I had no idea how it was even humanly possible to cope with one child, let alone four! I felt as though I would be stuck beneath these tidal waves of desperation and drowning and just wanting it all to end, forever. I asked her how she did it, you know...
2 comments
Read more

Hand, foot, and mouth: an essay on depression during motherhood.

  “Ahh” the doctor said knowingly, as he peered into her mouth. “Looks like hand, foot, and mouth to me,” he then explained while examining her toes. “You’ll need to keep her home and away from everyone.” he concluded, handing me a prescription for more pamol with the cautious warning, “you’ll need it.” I used to think hand, foot, and mouth was something that only plagued unlucky sheep. However, toddlerhood has shown me that if there's a gross bug to catch, they will catch it. They just seem to lick everything in sight. This prognosis of having our usual routine disrupted made me feel a bit all over the place. // I feel dull. And dulled. Each day that stretches before me yawns, gaping, open, an unfathomable expanse of wondering how I’ll possibly cope. The clawing anxiety sets in too - if these days are long and heavy right now, how much more will they swell and expand in a few months time when my second baby arrives? Am I meant to feel this way? Maybe this is the united, fearful st...
3 comments
Read more

Postpartum? Check. Ongoing? Check.

A dear friend sent me this video recently, and it made me bawl. I didn't even know I had all those tears inside of me or all those feelings, either. All those nameless, ugly-feeling beasts. Which I guess really aren't all that ugly, but instead, they're just real. And when you're trying to exist in this cookie-cutter realm of motherhood where everything glows softly and birds chirp in the background like you're supposed  to, these feelings don't exactly comply. The disconnect between how you think motherhood should be and what it's actually like is the root of all shame. Nobody told me how much I'd miss my toddler.  How for the next 12 hours after giving birth, she was all I could think about. Her warm breath, her chubby hands, her familiar hugs. Not the beautiful, perfect baby right next to me. Oh how I loved her so too, that wildfire kind of love you know, but at the same time, my grief about losing how things were with my oldest baby was all-encompas...
Post a Comment
Read more