Monday, February 9, 2015

Like, Magic.

This. She looks at me like this a lot. Like 'You've got this', 'Just breathe' or Keep up the good work'. And I believe it has been good work. Not easy that's for damn sure but it has been good. Really really good. And honestly? She's better than I deserve. Good natured, funny, laid back... so so chill. How did I get so lucky? It's like the Universe finally decided that after 4 miscarriages and years of trying that I really was serious about the whole baby thing and maybe the powers that be would give me - us - a shot. Finally.
All of my preconceived notions about parenting and giving birth were abruptly thrown out the door as soon as she arrived 6 weeks early and in the wrong state. Like literally, the wrong state of the United States. #SpeacialK and I crash-coursed caring for a newborn/premie and breast feeding took months to master. Months. But yes, master that I did, much to my amazement. We're pretty unabashed about it and not in an in-your-face kind of way, but more like, the kid's gotta eat and I am her source kind of way instead. It's kind of magical. 
And the post-partum pounds and blues? Yep, totally real and not as easy to kick as my former pre-birth giving self could have imagined. 10 months later and I'm not going to lie, maternity pants are still a regular part of my daily rotation and they are in fact so freaking comfortable... I could eat Thanksgiving dinner almost every day in those bad boys. But I don't. Instead I find myself counting calories almost daily, painfully, as I struggle to find the shape that I was once in. Once upon a time. #totallyworthit.
Right now she's in this (magical) phase where when it's time for bed, we do the night time routine and as soon as you turn out the light and turn on her fan, she snuggles tightly, right into your chest. Kind of like Yes, finally, let's do this whole sleep thing. So then we rock for a few minutes and she's out. Sometimes I rock for longer, because I can and I try to inhale her through my nose until there is nothing left... And sometimes she still squirms after a time but when we put her into her crib, no matter what, she turns her head one way, then the other. Then she just kind of exhales. And that's it. And then we watch her in the monitor like it's live television and after an hour or so of not moving, I go and check to make sure she's breathing. And then we relax. And an hour later I check again, because I have to. Relax. Check. Repeat. I can't not. She's too good. Too perfect. How did we get so lucky?
I have to write this all down now because let's face it, I'll need to go back to it when she's a teenager if her dad and I are any indication...
S

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