Diaries Magazine

Has It Been Two Weeks Already?

Posted on the 18 March 2013 by Augustabelle
HAS IT BEEN TWO WEEKS ALREADY?
HAS IT BEEN TWO WEEKS ALREADY?
HAS IT BEEN TWO WEEKS ALREADY?
HAS IT BEEN TWO WEEKS ALREADY?
Why, yes it has.  Baby Lou is two weeks old.  Which means that I am two weeks postpartum.  Which means that I should probably put an end to my Ben & Jerry's habit (because really, I can no longer justify to myself that a pint a night is ok without the "well, I am pregnant" or "well, I did just have a baby" excuses) and get back to my green smoothies for dessert.  I should also probably change out of my housedress, do my hair, and introduce my son to his city.  My midwife advised me to rest up after my labor for two whole weeks.  No excuses, she told me.  And while I can't exactly say that keeping up with Biet has been restful, I  have managed to keep indoors for the most part.  The time inside has done me well; physically, I feel strong again, and mentally, I feel balanced.  Aside from the expected sleep deprivation and a mild case of cabin fever, I have few complaints.  I'm itching to take my plump  2-week-old and strong-willed 22-month old out on an adventure.  Please come quickly, springtime.
At two weeks of age, Lucien's favorite thing to do is to fall asleep on our chests.
From the moment he was born he seemed perfectly comfortable, both in his own skin as well as in our arms.  And in the past two weeks, I've watched him grow even more at home in our little apartment.  I remember how uncomfortable Biet was as a newborn- how she used to need tight swaddling and constant bouncing and stimulation of music and sights in order to be calm.  Lucien, on the other hand, has a certain serenity about him.  Often times he'll lay next to me, his deep blue eyes wide open, and simply gaze around.  His eyes are actually open quite a lot for such a tiny thing, seemingly always watching the goings-on in his world.  They slowly close when he lays across Gaby's chest for an afternoon nap.  Gaby's burly snore, which drives me crazy most nights, seems to be the perfect rumbling lullaby for our little boy.  And when my baby rests his head upon my chest at the end of the day and allows himself to be lulled to sleep by the rhythm my heart and breath, I find myself hoping that he'll never grow up.

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